20160503 (tempus dormit)

This could easily have been a picture of me sleeping in Jean's Lazyboy when I was on the mend with a broken arm back in 2000.  Except it would have been our cat Chloe on my chest.

It’s not that I’m lazy, honest,

I’m not. But I’ve noticed things

Are getting harder to do than I 

Recall. Walking around the block

Used to be a fairly spirited romp

That I could accomplish easily,

Especially without strain as I 

Ascended West 29th from Clinton

To Franklin (an elevation of maybe

Twelve feet). But this morning

Like so many other mornings

Lately I end up walking very

Slowly and still getting winded

Before I’m halfway up. I can

Feel what I describe as lactic

Buildup in my legs (I have no

Idea that’s what it is. I liken it

To the feeling in your muscles

When you have reached your

Limit in running or climbing).

I joke to passersby, “I used to

Wonder why old guys walked

So slow. I don’t wonder anymore.”

Tasks around the house are

Piling up. I’ve pretty much

Given up restoration jobs like

Scraping old paint off woodwork,

Inside or out. I’m trying to 

Connive myself into pulling some

Weeds which have popped up all

Over this spring, growing in

Places where you’d think no 

Seed could grab hold. In the 

Morning I can tell whether I

Will accomplish anything just

By the fuzz in my head as I rise

From the sheets. More than once

Have I given up right there, kicked

Off the slippers I had just scuffed

My feet into, told mewing Sophia,

“No, babes, it’s too early,” crawled 

Back under the covers, and let her

Re-nestle in the crook of my left

Arm. Course, if Loki is moving

About, burrowing under until he

Can lick my face, I know I’ve got

To get up. Licking my face is like

Asking me, “Hey, Big Guy, you 

Want the puddle here on the floor

Or out in the yard?” No use arguing

With reasoning like that, so today

I got up to let him, “Pee the tree,”

As we call it. If I’m more awake 

I’ll make breffies after feeding the

Dependents, then watch Democracy

Now! with Loki curled up in my lap.

Despite Amy Goodman’s monotone

I may stay awake to the end of the

Show, when I’ll decide a nap is in

Order. If I tested my blood sugar

Before I ate I should test again 

After two hours. There’s no staying

Awake that long. I hit the couch

And typically nap past the mark.

Sometimes after the nap I’ll feel

Pretty good and set about my desk

Work (One day it will be clear, I

Promise). Sometimes I’ll find I

Have fallen asleep at the desk 

And it’s already past three. Now

I’ve got to walk the pooch, sensing

His need from the mania that

Follows, “Loki want to walk?”

I am so grateful these two

Continue to let me live here with

Them, now that I’ve calmed

Down so dramatically. I mean

It would take a fairly decrepit

Senior to outnap a ten-year-old

Dog and four-year-old cat.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016

20160502 (juxtapose)

Mr. Obama who continues the destruction of Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, etc.

Helen Mirren, star of film and TV, wore
purple in memory of Prince, neither of
whom has/had anything to do with
Journalism.

Reverend Daniel Berrigan, S.J., whose
protest leadership helped end the war in
Vietnam.

That Reverend Dan Berrigan, S.J.,

Died the day of the White House 

Correspondents’ Dinner raises the

Opportunity to draw meaningful

Comparisons between his life

And that of those fete-ing in that

Galabash of self-congratulatory

Power-wigs, sycophants, and

Celebrity worshippers. I’d like

To think if I were the president

I’d avoid it at all costs. To nosh

With those whose so-called

Career it is to be picking over 

My bones at every moment

Runs counter to my dedication

To an open, transparent style of

Governance. I wouldn’t want 

The public’s investigators to be

Compromised in any way. Their

Role is to be respectful and civil

To those who govern. For them

To be congenial or worse friendly

Might slow them in their task

Of searching every miscreance,

Every failure. No, let them eat

In peace, free to praise their

Heroes without power’s shadow

Of approbation or displeasure

Darkening the evening. Will

Someone tell me why Helen Mirren

Was there and why she received

Such a fawning, obsequious notice?

What business had Hollywood 

Hangers-on there? A great place 

To display slim bodies for publicity

Who had no part in ferreting truth.

Was there even a mention of

Dan Berrigan’s departure? I wasn’t

There, I didn’t hear. What a 

Remonstrance it would have been

To note the passing of (which would

Be noting the existence of)

Voices raised against imperialism

In the capitol of the empire. It 

Would make people remember 

Those who have been locked 

Away for the truth—Chelsea

Manning, forgotten by most

Of the people in that room, 

Edward Snowden, exiled by the

Threat of suppression from the

Country he loves and served.

Many of my favorite journalists

Would not attend—I. F. Stone, 

Who owed no one for his facts, 

George Seldes, whose motto 

Was, “Tell the truth and run,”

And the Muckrakers of the early 

Twentieth century. Let it remain

A Stars’ Night Out if that’s your 

Idea of reportage, where the 

President unashamedly laments 

(But does not condemn) the

Corporatization of news, the

Elimination of eager, aggressive

Foreign bureaus from the media.

It would seem they’d rather have

Their lions toothless, docile,

And obedient.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016

20160501 (hope for sale)

Creflo Dollar's Fayetteville GA home and "ministerial" Gulfstream

As I beheld the drunken figure 

Asleep on the park bench I thought,

“Oblivion only defers the pain 

Until you awaken--you’ve lost

The relief not enjoyed it. The

Rock must still be pushed up 

The hill, you've less time, and

You’ve wasted your strength.” 

Nevertheless the deceptive and

Minuscule respite is enough

To keep you searching for the

Easy out. No one responds to

Pleas for help. What can they

Do? Get in your head and 

Rewire your brain? If it were

That simple, obstacles would

Long ago have faded by your 

Wish. No amount of desperate

Desiring eased your state. The

Tools of others’ success were

Not available for you. From 

Where did they obtain untiring

Effort, those who ran and found

A second wind? Motivational

Speakers are a curse not a cure.

To them life is just a matter of

Reaching deeper down, of 

Never giving up, of finding

Some extra measure when you’ve

Reached what you think is the

Bottom. “You’ve got to know

What you want. You’ve got to

Know what you’re willing to 

Give up to get it. And you’ve

Got to will it, “ Eric Thomas

Pounds his fist on his chest 

As he rattles off his formulae 

For success. Tony Robbins 

Admits having hit bottom 

But asserts he developed tools

And he’s never going back. 

He readies himself for success

Each day by waking up grateful. 

“You can’t be angry or down

When you’re grateful.” Then 

He “primes”his day thinking

Hard on what he needs to do

And visualizing his tasks already

Done. These are people who 

Have built themselves from

Tough beginnings. Thomas 

Describes himself as a homeless

Teen eating out of garbage cans.

Robbins relates he grew up

With an alcoholic mother and

Four alcoholic fathers. He took

A job booking seminar speakers,

Occasionally subbing for 

Them, when he realized he

Was better at it than they 

And struck out on his own. 

Thomas built his body, went

Into sports, and excelled.

Neither tells of the many along 

The way for whom the formulae

Failed or for whom luck didn’t 

Get willed into being. Like

Classic snake oil salesmen,

Hucksters of early advertising, 

And preachers of the Prosperity

Gospel they prove again no 

Matter how deeply you believe,

Wishing will not make it so

And flim-flammers will profit 

Off the desperate.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016