9/27/2007

I took the plastic splint off my finger just now because I figured like any living thing it needed to breathe a bit. Well, it doesn't smell like a living thing, or completely healthy anyway. My finger smells like my son.See, when you are a caregiver to your child it is up to you to monitor their health, and the lizard brain part of us knows that smell is a powerful indicator of conditions out there. Somebody hands you a child and you will sniff the air even if you don't realize it at the time. So here's a way to share: take a pair of cotton socks and put them on. Put on a pair of sneakers, old or new, it doesn't matter. Now wade in a piece of natural water, and by that I mean like a stream, pond or ditch. Walk around for a day in this foot gear and then sit down, take off the sneakers, take off the socks and then bring that foot as close to your nose as possible and sniff. That smell of saturated flesh and bacterial growth is the smell of a person who keeps their hands clinched due to contractures of the tendons, like for years at a time. I roll a washcloth, dry, and stuff it into Jon's grip so instead of clinching hand, he's clinching something else, something dry and pretty sterile.

What's happening to my finger with that plastic splint and tape is the water stays in place, the water extracted from my finger itself and the water in the air. The skin has more than it can handle and conditions melt down, like when you invade a country, disband it's army and police force and open all the doors. Like that. It stinks to high heaven, but it also stinks to hell. It basically smells all wrong, even if you don't know what could make it right, at least you know something's wrong.

What would be your self image if you yourself smelled different and wrong? How would YOU feel if in front of you were two hands all twisted and shrunken, oblivious to your suggestions? One of my fingers is swollen, stitched, stinks and is the wrong color. But I know, in my heart, that it is healing, because in large part I have faith in my doctor. He knows my name, he jokes with me and he is careful when he handles my hand. Oftentimes Jon is spoken to by another name because his forms show his full name but there is no space for the name by which he used to be called. When you are trying to call forth a demon or a god you need to know their true name. When you are trying to catch the attention of and cooperation of a person it would seem obvious that you should use the name they most identify with. For instance, a metaphor: my finger smells like a well worn, damp sock just released from a sneaker. The skin is white and peeling off here and there and too pink elsewhere. If I call it "My Finger" I don't really feel comfortable because it neither acts like my finger, nor smells like my finger. It's in the right spot, but all else is a question mark. When my son looks down at his body or at a mirror if they have one there, he sees a strange contortion of a person, ageless and twisted, nothing like the drumming, dancing, driving, dog-loving young man who left to work in Arizona over 7 years ago.

I have to be patient for my skin to heal, but my finger will always be bent and different. They tell me nothing can be the same after such a trauma and I have faith they are right about that. I understand how such things can happen, even to nice guys like me and my son Jon.

How shall I put this? It's about hypocrisy and it's about truth. Not Truth, nor certainly not TRUTH but just a direct correspondence between what is known and what is revealed. Take for example if I say "There is a car." If you can confirm that there is in fact an automobile not right where the speaker is, but elsewhere in space or time you could say "That's true." Now let's say that as you confirm that truth you note in a peripheral way that there are also many other cars not exactly where the speaker is and we have to face the "a". If the emphasis is on the "there" and the finger of the speaker is directed in line with a red car parked nearby there would be no doubt about the truth, but if the emphasis is on "a" then there is an element of untruth, for in fact there are 6 cars, all different colors, makes and models. That's how you get deniability. In a moral sense a childlike mind would offer one truth while retaining in the back pocket a copy of that other truth, knowing both truths to be aspects of a larger truth. The neighborhood in which the six cars park is bristling with small children playing unattended on and off the street. To debate internally over the position of a car or the color of a car is to watch in horror as children are struck down and killed, or worse. To be ethical one would address the environment and full content of available truth. "There's a red car about to hit those children!" would be an excellent example of an ethical truth.

To point to an image taken from an orbiting camera of three trailers parked in the desert and say "Those could be biological laboratories cooking up toxins to spray on American cities!" is a moral choice, a moral truth. The speaker knows that although they could, they most certainly are not, but they could be. In fact, if the speaker had the opportunity to have such labs exactly there, he would. Because the Creator of the Universe has placed in his hands the chance to free the Holy Land and trigger the Final Days. Naturally the reward for doing all this would be great, even eternally great, but the speaker allows himself to think that this is a moral truth, one that will bring about far greater good than the small harm it causes. This almost works as an ethical truth if the speaker is so ignorant of the nuances of the intelligence behind the image that he or she cannot know of alternative realities. A very stupid and ignorant mind, like a child's, would make such a statement and trigger not the Final Days but just miserable, deadly days like so many millions before when people speak or act who are not so much child-like as abused child-like or even autistic and abused child-like, because they would do so knowing that the deaths of millions are possible and the deaths of hundreds of thousands most likely. They would enable such death for the good of a select few and the horror of hundreds of millions world wide.

Partial truth delivered in knowledge of more detailed, nuanced truth is a lie in an ethical system. In a moral system it might be a revelation, as when a mind imagines a truth in spite of all that is around it which is known to be true, but the ultimate source of that truth is above truth and is itself a higher order of truth, a TRUTH above all others. That being the given, naturally the truth becomes a revelation, an empowerment to overcome adversity, such as inconvenient truths or shades of truth. A addict of TRUTH will do anything to wring out of truth that which it craves: a high, a bliss, a rapture.

In some universes such truth is perceived as madness.

Strip away the links to our own heritages and examine the story of how Moses first enters the world of men. His birth was a copy of a story told many times before and since of a miraculous birth, seemingly a gift from Nature Herself, not really important because it can't be confirmed anywhere else by any other means.It's possible the man himself never even heard the story. Then there's his entrance to the main stage when he murders an Egyptian, a fellow Egyptian, actually, as "Moses" is not a Hebrew Name, but an Egyptian. So this Egyptian murders a man and frightens his servants and/or slaves so much that he has to hide in the desert. Later he returns and uses that fear to bind them to him and he takes away the man's servants/slaves and they become his. His word is Law, even unto death, and he provides them with a religion in which he is the sole authority. He demands strict adherence to his commands and tells a world view of domination, even global domination with death around them for all who will not obey him.

In some universes such TRUTH is perceived as madness.

The truth about America is complex as a human brain. Some things we can never know, but aside from the Hollow Earth Societies and political parties most will agree that religious incompatibility brought the founders of this nation to this land. Because the people who came were looking to build a New Jerusalem and bring Heaven to Earth, we can be sure they were looking at a Truth rather than a truth. They prayed all the time and in time they preyed all the time. They ate meat, they killed to survive. They suggested that the natives might be the lost tribe of Israel and then proceeded to slaughter them by the thousands with disease, bullets and deceit. It was genocide and in time it was not only sanctioned by the government but financed by the government as policy, even up to the 1900's. That's when the vast concentration camps, called "Reservations" were protected by the government, managed by the wealthy for the benefit of the few. Before the casinos, when the deserts and wastelands were home to millions of native people. They sold pottery by the roadsides, bought by galleries and sold for thousands, the old women lived their lives in clay huts eating beans and corn and squash, all gifts from the Goddess.

So we were founded by slave owning, wealthy businessmen as a corporation of wealthy like-minded individuals who would forever more dictate the lives of the masses, the non-whites, the wmoen, children, slaves and animals. It was to be Heaven on Earth. We went to war with our neighbors to take their land and own their slaves. We bought on the cheap, rewrote our history, and let go of rights one painful, difficult step at a time. But, like any good tug of rope, the movement of rights vs rules goes back and forth and we enter a time again when the leader of this corporation has been granted by other like-minded wealthy individuals the right to enslave individuals in secret prisons, even citizens, without oversight of any kind. These people may be tortured, killed or abandoned in some foreign land. They may number as high as the President deems appropriate and none may question this, nor expect answers from the President or his assigns.

In some universes this is perceived as a rotating dictatorship. Insofar as there are freedoms in such a place, there is the freedom of ethical anarchy and flexible moral restraints. The Law of the Land creates the Land of the Lawless. There is Rule, but not rules. There are decisions, but no debate. There is TRUTH, but no truth.

To understand all this and say nothing, do nothing, is hypocrisy unless ones says nothing and does nothing for the rest of one's life.

In some universes this is perceived as Slow Death or even soul death. It's rarely sought by so many so eagerly in this country today.

So what started as a bump on my finger turned into a major fooforall. Doc Izzo thought it was going to be a cyst on an arthritic joint so he put me on Celebrex. A month later the thing is bigger and starting to hurt. Eventually we go to urgent care and they are nervous. They suggest a hand specialist. Next day the pain is about a 9 and the finger looks more like a sausage with the bump a noble rider on his off-color steed. We go to the ER in Saratoga, not a great choice according to the rumors but the closest one with morphine. They let me in, check out the monster and decide to cut. They swab it with iodine and slice it open after one shot of novocaine. Nah, I need 4-5 shots I say, I'm mostly immune to novocaine. To hell with that they think and cut away. Blood pours out but no expected pus. Hmmm, they say, and debate which needle to thrust into me. I suggest more pain meds and they chuckle, thinking I must be so stoned from the one dinky shot. No, I am hurting. They select a 18 needle and drive it into the joint, looking for the mythical pus. No such luck. Well they drill and poke and no pus so they put some bandages on it and suggest I see a hand doctor.
Next day I go see Doc Izzo and after freaking out a bit he wants me to see a real specialist. So I went to see the local hot-shot orthopedic guys. The first man walks in and says "Jeez! What is that?" well, that was disappointing. I said, "You're not supposed to say that. You're supposed to say Oh, that! We can fix that right away." Well he examines it and decides it might have started as a mucous cyst but it had moved on. He calls in another doctor who goes thru the "Jeeez!" phase and they both decide to bring in Dr. Byrt, who is top dog with hands. He looks at it, freaks a bit, says he never saw anything like it and says "We have to get that taken care of, we'll schedule you for surgery tomorrow morning!"
Next day I go to the surgery center, which is a lovely building with high ceilings and windows. I get called in, dress in the gown and toddle off to the OR. Doc Byrt is there and he introduces the team, I lay down and he shoots me several times with something, maybe novocaine. Then, unlike the ER nurse, he waits for it to hit! Yeah, he doesn't want me to hurt. What a concept. It takes about 15 minutes for him to open the finger, dig out the weird tissues, scrape the bone spurs away and sew me up. The only discomfort was the scraping part when I could feel the vibrations and think about the bones being laid out in the air. Not fun. They splint me up and away I go home.
This morning I went back to the Doctor's and brought him a jar of elderberry jelly, which I understand is his favorite and which I just made from the berries down the street. We check out the stitches on the finger, they look okay, no swelling or redness and I asked him about the distinct bend at the end of the digit. "Is that ever going away?" I ask. "No." He says. "Dang." says I. Then I go my merry way and start typing the story up. I'm not sure about the exact sequence of visits and days because I saw so many doctors, but this is about the whole story. I'm pretty sure that a simple problem was worsened by the ER probing and slicing, but I can't prove anything so it doesn't matter except that I will likely go to Glens Falls ER next time and see if they can understand "I am mostly immune to pain meds, give me lots!"
Now I just have to deal with the bag of elderberries and the bag of wild grapes in the context of there being so far no stores carrying pectin to make jelly. I may extract the juice of at least the elderberries and use it to make mellomel, or fruit juiced mead. I did that last year and it was great.
I hope the finger heals fast, as I don't intend to visit Jon with a wound on my finger. I know he has MRSA, or did, and one of us might infect the other. I could lose a finger and he could lose his life, such as it is. Next week I plan to have him taste the elderberry jelly and if he responds I want to try other flavors on his tongue and see if I can get him to lick his lips when I talk about the jelly. If he responds then maybe we can get him to lick his lips on demand. That would be a good start on communication, and on showing the docs that he can still think, he just can't move.

I write about the War sometimes because I know that a good part of Jon's problems could be addressed if we weren't spending $12B a month on killing babies for profit.

It's hard to understand how, but I read that Democrats are claiming that the troop reduction of 30K is because of things they did. They expect credit for a partial success. Amazing. This cabal of supersized egos are participating in the dismantling of a 200+ year old Republic and they want credit for watching Bush do what he had planned to do months ago. The idea that Pelosi could take credit for anything above dressing herself is staggering. She's an idiot fighting a psychotic by tossing cupcakes. There's a very good chance this whole stack of cards could implode before too long. Eventually the Iraqi's themselves will be screaming at us to leave and it will be difficult to make a case for continuing the occupation after that, but we will. Hillary or someone like her will make the tough decision to continue killing people over There so we don't lose lives over Here. But they are already over Here and getting ready to start planting roadside bombs any day now. How can we stop them? They might be Us.

If we get a real President, one actually elected by the People, we might pull out of the Mideast, out of the role of Supplier of Weapons to the World, stop protecting Israel from itself, and focus on rebuilding a democratic republic, or God forbid, a Democracy here at home. Im der Homelandt. Seig Heil. Don't hold your breath. I am very interested in finding out what was the deal that turned Pelosi over to the Dark Side. Power? Destruction of some embarrassing photos? Money? Or is she just so stupid and naive she thinks sitting with Bush and smiling is leadership?

4 million people displaced. A trillion dollars more or less blown on killing and destroying. Thousands of Americans dead, tens of thousands of Americans terribly wounded, some for life. Hundreds of thousands of civilian men, women, children, babies, all dead. This is Bush's idea of success. Which God would admire this carnage, reward His good follower? Yahweh for sure, but also Shiva, Satan, Mars... there's a lot of gods who are into blood and death. George has assured himself a seat in the darkest, coldest region of Hell. He probably expects to be made a Duke of Hell, certainly Cheney is already one. It's all sad, but not unexpected. The worse it gets the more it falls into that category of history that is labeled "inevitable". Power to the privileged few, apathy of the masses, keep them scared, keep them ignorant. It's only people who can think critically, are well informed and who understand the dangers of not caring about others who can see the way out, but they have no power. The survivors will know the dangers. I just wish I knew that the enemies of the State, what we used to call Congress, the Executive and the Supreme Court, will someday really understand the magnitude of their crimes. I think George knows. He's looking more frightened as nothing he does (that involves more slaughter) seems to make our enemies weaker. He has no idea where he is or what he is trying to kill. 5,000 years of war in that region, for centuries blood has flowed down the Tigris and now it's American blood, gallons of it. No wonder Ishtar is waking and furious. If only George had been sober during world history class.

I wonder what we will call the remnants of America? I wonder if we will be allowed to remain in the U.N.? Probably best if they put a concrete wall around us and prohibit anyone from doing business with us. That should make the world safer for awhile.

The Blues ain't nothing but a good man feeling bad.

America ain't nothing but a good concept gone bad.

America ain't nothing.

Fly the flag upside down, this is a national disaster.

Man it's been a busy summer. Got rid of the older Volvo, the 'newer' one has 180,000 miles on it. The gardens have been expanding with all those plants fighting for space. I tend to plant in such a way that some plants have to relocate, like my bugleweed is a ground cover and other plants try to get in or overshadow it, so it sends out runners and looks for a better neighborhood. I also like to plant a shitload of sunflowers of all sizes and colors. Not only are they great looking but when the chipmunks eat the heads they lose some seeds and we get new sunflower next spring. The thing is since they are usually hybrid flowers, the children flowers are often very different, not unlike humans.

The other thing I did was go get my left sciatic nerve burn in half with high frequency radio waves. Now I don't get a blast of pain down the leg every time I move wrong. They eliminated 90% of my pain in the left leg in three sessions! Of course now I can feel my right leg much more, but the pain there tends to be more local, like a white faced hornet in the middle of my calf.

Recently I developed a mucous cyst on my left index finger. I have osteoarthritis in my hands and that joint was the lumpiest. Well the damn thing grew, got infected, grew some more, spread down the hand. Finally Saturday I went to the urgent care place and got it looked at. They gave me antibiotics and said I needed to see a hand doctor. Sunday the pain was so bad, in spite of my pain meds for the back, and we went to the ER. They were very nice and got me right in because I was close to screaming. I gave it a big 9 on the pain scale. They shot me with Novocaine, ignoring me telling them that I am mostly immune to the stuff and I would need like 9 shots to get numb. Then they sliced it open and got about a half cup of blood. I couldn't look, I'm such a baby. Margaret looked for me. They took a needle looking for pus, driving it into the wound while I gritted my teeth and gripped the side bar of the table. No pus. So they talked it over while I shook and whimpered on the table. Then they got a bigger needle and drove it into the joint! Well I tried not to alarm the guys waiting in the front room so I ground my mouth shut and screamed bloody murder. Remember that one shot of Novocaine? Might as well been given an aspirin. They wrapped it up with antibiotics and said go see a specialist. Monday we went to see a specialist and he put me on the mother of all antibiotics and told me to come back in a couple of days. So, today I go back and the swelling and pain had retreated to just that finger and just the last two joints. He said we should "stay the course" so I asked him what he thought about Iraq? He grinned and shook his head. I said I have an "Impeach Cheney?" cap and I wear it down town but nobody wants to talk to me about it. Either they are all afraid of secret police or they all agree with me.

So I can't work in clay because of the botulism in it, I'm on 3-4 times the normal dose of pain meds so driving is problematic. I'm finally taking enough to kill the pain, but who knows what it's doing to my kidneys! I can't go see Jon because I might infect him or he might give me his MRSA, or highly resistant to most antibiotics bacteria, in which case I might die or he might die. Either way it sucks.

The tomatoes are ripe, as are the grapes, although I haven't seen too much wild grapes. I have ferrel concord grapes. The elderberries have been magnificent this year, huge black clumps of berries! I made some jelly and gave a lot away and I plan some more elderberry mead, maybe grape mead or even a mix. When I went to the ER for my hand my finger tips were stained purple from pulling off elderberries and the nurse gasped and said she thought it was some terrible disease. Well it did look odd.

We are changing furniture and making the house more Danish modern with a mix of country cottage, since this little cracker box of a house is really a cottage. Margaret found a great sectional couch in Craig's for $100 bucks! It's teak and in fine shape, although the cushions smell strongly of urine. We bought some new couch foam cushions and now Margaret's going to sew up some covers. It's great having two couches because we turned them at an angle, so as to NOT make the TV the end all and be all, and we plan to move all my dvds into the guest room. That's the dinky room where the previous owners stuck their kids.

And that's what I have been doing lately. That and taking photos of my art so I can up load it here. I have a studio filled with greenware but I can't fire my noborigama until I hook up a propane burner to let me use propane for 12 hours and finish with 4-6 hours of me tossing in wood and salt. If I could get a helper I could fire much longer, especially if they had an intact spine.

Well that's it. Next time I can use my left hand and I will discuss more significant doings.