Old Journal Entries 2018

Published April 24, 2025 by Nan Mykel

I’ve got an itty bitty

witty ditty just

under my arm–

no harm!

Though it’s pretty gritty.

You know what I mean–

In every way it’s coming at us:

Life, speeding faster and faster

foreward and toward

a showdown.

________________

I tried to meditate tonight

but metaphors came out on foot

to mock my battered soul…

What poppycock! Delusions

of grandeur hold warped mirrors

before me, visiting in the wings

to mock me.

______________________

Intellectuals by Paul Johnson sobered me into reality: Rousseau abandoned his 5 newborns in unidentified baskets, and Bertrand Russell is revealed to have been an unspeakable bounder, after Russell’s Autobiography had made me (temporarily) a fan of his.

______________________

My “transitional object” was not a blankie, but a book. There’s an unheard whistle of anxiety when I have nothing to read.

_________________

I read The Dream of the Underworld and ran away from Jungian analysis.

______________________

The cat has nine lives? Many more

than me. Do we both go to Heaven?

Evolution has set us up

to think with faulty data.

Defense mechanisms betray us…

By the bye, I caught sight of me in

an alternate universe last night.

She was me but younger and

so much wiser!

She said to tell you [me] hi!

_______________

Prostitutes are now sex workers,

Slaves are enslaved people.

When will a versifier

become a poet?

___________________

Grab a piece of reality and

take it with you when you journey

to the Other Side.

___________________

Word salad is a symptom?

How can that be? Early English

sounds daft to me.

….STOP! Just stop it!

I need a respite

______________

Do all anchor men wear

lipstick now or is that

just gloss?

______________

Everyone really does hate a bully.

When will they remember that?

_____________

Some have made fun of the flying monk

who flew around the church

wearing no underpants, and

became a saint. My book

The Occult tells about it, and

Yeats, Graves, Mann and Leibnitz

are believers. And the Catholic

church: he’s a saint.

____________________

2-12-18 Alas, poor car, you did me no wrong. If we had forged a spiritual bond, I broke it that February day. Was I woolgathering or was his tail light out? No mind. Spilt milk. Misdeed done. I never knew the freedom you brought me until the day we parted on Route 7. Oh my Toyota Matrix 2003, I miss you! I’m sorry.,

_____________________

I heard someone crying. It woke me. Maybe in the upstairs condo? A muscle in my arm twitched. I recall snuggling with my old blind deaf cat, “Lucky.”

_____________________

Maybe death is not final.

Whoopee

There’s enough hell loosed on Earth

for another one? Is He really recording

His list and checking it twice?

That’s all, folks!

Old Coot or…

Published April 23, 2025 by Nan Mykel

https://macaulaylibrary.org/asset/20803451

My mind was saying, “Crazy as an old coot”; then I wondered what was a coot, so visited Google. FYI, a coot exists and is pictured above. It is a “plump, chickenlike bird with a rounded head and a sloping bill. Their tiny tail, short wings, and large feet are visible on the rare occasions they take flight. Where and when did the elderly become coots?” A crochety person, especially one who is old (a strange and usually old man–(“Don’t mind him—he’s just a crazy old coot.”) that you think is strange or unpleasant– a miserable mean old coot .First used in the 1700’s to refer to a harmless simple person. ‘A coot’ is a bird that bobs its head as it walks and swims, similar to an elderly person. It also means, a person who is foolish/eccentric/stupid. In modern times, it is sometimes used in an affectionate way towards elderly men.. The American coot (Fulica americana) is particularly well known in North America.

Additionally, “coot” has also evolved into slang usage in English, where it can refer to an eccentric or silly person, particularly an old man. This usage likely stems from the perceived odd behavior of the bird itself. First published use of the word as cooties, with the meaning of lice which prey on humans

The term became common in America for headlice amongst children. This is the meaning in all American literature. This sole use lasted from 1920s until the 1980s.

Unproved reasons, which may involve high levels of bullying …

… (more) “Coot” is also an old Dutch word for waterfowl which dates back to about 1300. So why are coots lumped in with dotty old humans? And why was I thinking about this at all?

I don’t remember…Smile…

.

___________________

No “He” or “She”

Published April 23, 2025 by Nan Mykel

“The Retreat”

Afternoon shadows were lengthening as the last car drove into the makeshift parking lot in the field adjacent to the camp. A hooded figure attired in a yellow toga stepped from the wooden gatehouse and approached the car. “Welcome. You are Tee. You are familiar with the rules?”

Tee guessed that the voice was that of a man, but could not be certain, due to the utilization of a voice modifier. Fingers flashed momentarily from beneath the loose sleeves of the toga.

Tee, already covered in a tan toga, nodded and parked the old VW as directed, then returned to the gatehouse, where the figure waited. “You are assigned to the third cabin on the right, down the path. Dinner will be in the large building further down the path, and will be announced by a gong, as will other gatherings. You are not to reveal your birth sex to any person, whether registrant or staff.” The figure offered a pamphlet describing the rules and goals for encampment, as did a proffered voice modifier and a pad or paper and pen. “Most folks write notes instead of talking….Oh, and each cabin has its own privy and running water….and you’re just in time for dinner.”

Tee bowed briefly. A week of meditation, contemplation, education and sharing with other non-binary individuals lay ahead. Twenty individuals had paid the tuition, seeking what? An additional six had completed an earlier camp and functioned now as staff. The combination totaled the 26 letters of the alphabet, each letter assigned as a name for members of the gathering. Tee’s stomach spasmed alarmingly. Where did the fear come from?

The large suitcase on wheels rattled as it passed over occasional rocks along the well-trod path. Tee deposited the suitcase inside the door of the third cabin, and headed for the privy just as the gong sounded. Following other robed figures in silence beneath a canopy of occasional bird song felt unreal as though Tee was in a non-playful staged play.

Would everyone really maintain their anonymity for an entire week? Of course an accidental flash of skin would reveal little, since all were either in a pre-transitioning, current or post-transitioning stage.

Upon entering the rustic mess hall which would doble for meetings, Tee was greeted with silence. Only the clinking of plates and silverware along the self-help cafeteria line filled the air. Someone stifled a sneeze. What few sounds there were echoed hollowly. A figure in the corner at a nearby table seemed to be weeping silently. A scrap of paper was handed down the long table at which Tee sat: Please pass the salt.

The meal was tasty, a large serving of either regular or vegan vegetable soup and a mixed garden salad. It was not until the baked apple dessert had been finished, and each participant had returned their own place setting to the kitchen, that a figure of medium height spoke, utilizing a voice modifier. The figure was wearing the standard yellow toga of staff and stood, directing the registrants to the far side of the larger room.

“Welcome, bearers of the life force! Unless you are seriously on the non-binary journey, that phrase will sound shmaltzy to you. I am Ex. Our first task is to bond, and to facilitate that we will join in chanting, an old and revered tradition. You may have heard recordings of monks chanting, as well as nuns. We will create our own version, after first listening to the following recording. At any time, you may add your own voice through the voice modifier or naturally–we won’t notice the difference.”

The lights were dimmed and a recording began to play. After several minutes of absorption with eyes closed, Tee imagined God being present, then with a start realized that God was binary. Tee shrugged. Maybe Christianity wasn’t a good fit for being non-binary. But the fulfilling feeling was here. So maybe spirituality is separate.

Was it the chanting or the setting that was responsible for the increased percolation of realizations about the binary/non-binary conundrum? There was a soft rustle as the staff brightened the lights. “We will break into two groups in order to share our hopes and expectations for the retreat. ” The group counted itself off and sat at some distance from each other,

Silence followed as each reflected on their hopes and needs. Finally, one said through the voice modulator, “I’m tired of feeling like a weirdo. I want to feel connected to humanity.”

Another spoke, and another, the momentum growing. “I want to experience myself.”

“If I’m really non-binary I want to find the real me.”

“I want to quit feeling afraid.”

“How can they say I’m lying?”

“I know I’m up against evolution, and that’s scary.”

“As I get clearer things get muddier. Is it a curse or a blessing?”

“Why on earth would I lie about it?”

And so it went, one of those dressed in yellow joining in. “I sought integration in the face of sexuality. I received help, but I need more.”

The silence was heavy as the new members–devotees–seekers–the wounded–departed for their assigned cabins, each wrapped deep in solitary reflection. Trans or just core…

_______________________

Nan

________________

Fiction by Nan

Published April 21, 2025 by Nan Mykel

SALVATION

*Who’s Cremeans?” asked 10-year old Johnny, coming into the kitchen from play.

Up to her elbows pummeling dough, his mother Elizabeth blew the hair out of her eyes and replied, “I give up. Who is he?”

“Running for president, the sky says.”

“Whatever are you talking about?” She noticed his muddy hands and said, “Come to the sink and wash up.”

Johnny, tall for is age, was wearing a striped tee shirt and jeans. Red-headed like his mother, he did as he was told, then dried his hands and said, “Cremeans. Who is he?”

“Mr. Cremeans was my high school primcipal. Why?”

“He’s running for president, is all. Come look.”

Elizabeth stepped out the back door to humor her son, dough still clinging to her hands. Johnny pointed up to the sky, where a line of disintegrating letters proclaimed, Cremeans for President.

“Good question, Johnny. Never heard of him. President of what?” Johnny shrugged his shoulders and watched as the small plane flew out of sight.

Elizabeth was standing behind Johnny, and also watched as the plane disappeared. “I wonder which party he’s running for…or she.” Elizabeth returned to pummeling the dough while Johnny returned to searching the banks of their backyard creek for anything; mica, arrowheads, quartzite…

Come suppertime, the delicious fragrance of fresh baked bread wafted about the small family. James, husband and father at the head of the table, reported the day’s news after giving the blessing.

“They say a well-heeled dark horse has entered the race for President. No one’s heard of him before, but he’s kicking up a storm.”

“What party?” Elizabeth asked.

“A new Salvation party. Evidently it’s been in the works for a long

time, undercover. All legal, t’s crossed.”

“Salvation! Elizabeth laughed. “We could use it!”

“Where’s Cremeans from,” Johnny wanted to know. He might be Mom’s high school principal.”

James threw up his hands. “The news people haven’t determined that yet–mystery man, mystery candidate, mystery funding.”

Elizabeth buttered her toasty slice o bread. “I like the name of the party,” she said. “We registered again after we moved, didn’t we?”

“You bet.” The conversation then turned to other topics–the Braves, the most recent mass shooting and the new movie playing at the local theater.

The deadline for filing came and went, and Cremeans was scheduled to make his first in the next candidate debate. The stadium was packed and a crush came over the whole crowd in anticipation of the first entrant. Applause greeted each one as they took their place on the stage, dressed to the nines, and each wearing a silk necktie. There were no duplicate ties, nor near duplicates. Their secretaries must have conspired together.

Each candidate was introduced with applause as they walked onstage, but the silence of a staring curiosity greeted Cremeans when, as the last of the candidates, walked onstage, dressed in working man’s clothes. He was tall, rugged, middle-aged, bearded and sported a navy blue hooded duck quilted jacket, work jeans and journeyman’s bootgs. His hair was iron gray and his blue eyes twinkled. Despite his blue eyes, Cremeans projected an Abraham Lincoln aura. He did not remain for the debate, but briefly addressed the audience:

“Who here have their roots in England?” Many hands waved. “Asia? China? Africa? South or mid America?” He paused before adding “North America?” A small smattering of hands raised from the very few who resembled Native Americans. He said, “If you elect me to be your president I swear to serve you with truth, compassion, and justice.” With those words Cremeans strode off the stage to tumultuous applause, catching a number of those cheering off guard, surprised by their own response.

Conspiracy theorists who had been asleep before Cremeans’ appearance woke with joie de vivre. Everyone, in fact, had a story. He was Lincoln’s incarnation, maybe the Holy Spirit come to forgive sinners and set them on the straight path. That deteriorated into an argument about what the Hold Ghost really amounted to, followed by the suggestion that Cremeans was really God incarnate. From whence had he sprung and where did the contents of his heavy coffers come from? Perhaps them golden streets, it was rumored.

Some swore they saw an aura/halo around his great head, and let themselves be mesmerized by Cremeans’ penetrating glance. That he displayed strong compassion was beyond dispute. But who would he select for a running mate? It appeared he has a son.

__________

No president ever proposed anything so unhinged as Donald Trump’s brutal fantasy of evicting some 2.3 million Palestinians from Gaza and turning it into a massive real estate deal. (Orlando Sentinel Editorial.)

__________

Halting Hundreds of Regulations: It seems every day He comes up with something more despicable than the last. Has anyone taken a good look at his plan? He’s aiming to bring the USA to its knees to 1) get even with some and 2} either to let us be taken over by another political system or simply to be the richest King ever, perhaps getting even with Musk.

___________

Reblog from Keith

Published April 13, 2025 by Nan Mykel

The Wall Street Journal Editorial Board member used the I word

Posted on April 13, 2025

In an article by Tom Boggioni of Raw Story, he writes about an interesting editorial from the conservative Wall Street Journal called “’It’s already in the cards’: Trump impeachment urged by WSJ editorial board member.” Here are some key paragraphs from his piece.

“In a column published late Friday, a member of the Wall Street Journal editorial board claimed it would be ‘desirable’ to subject Donald Trump to a third impeachment to make up for the damage he has done to the U.S. economy with his ‘ill-founded’ trade war.

According to longtime columnist Holman W. Jenkins Jr., Trump’s on-again, off-again tariff threats almost makes it appear he wants to be impeached, with Jenkins writing, ‘A future Trump impeachment seemed all but guaranteed by last Wednesday morning. It seems only slightly less likely now. It may even be desirable to restore America’s standing with creditors and trade partners.’

As he sees it, the president’s last great achievement was being re-elected in 2024, and the damage he has been creating since then belies his promise of a ‘golden age,’ so an impeachment is ‘already ion the cards.’

‘No consensus or even significant coalition exists for trying to force into existence a new American ‘golden age’ with tariffs, which anyway is like asking a chicken to give birth to a lioness. He invented this mission out of his own confused intuition,’ he accused.

Noting that conservative historian Niall Ferguson labeled Trump’s trade policy going ‘full retard,’ he contributed, ‘I go with ‘neurotic’ for the word’s wider applicability to any leader who, lacking a clear bead on his times, fabricates a gratuitously ambitious mission to meet his misguided sense of importance.’

‘Nobody in Mr. Trump’s orbit actually shares his belief in the magical efficacy of tariffs because it makes sense only in a world that doesn’t exist, where other countries don’t retaliate,’ he pointed out before concluding, ‘The founders never anticipated today’s instantly responsive trillion-dollar financial markets. And yet these markets neatly adumbrate the founders’ scheme of checks and balances, also known as feedback. Mr. Trump, still sane enough to appreciate what’s good for Mr. Trump, listened this week to their feedback.’”

Former Treasury Secretary and Federal Reserve chair Janet Yellin added her criticism in The Hill:

“Former Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen weighed in on the Trump administration’s trade war Friday evening, blasting President Trump’s latest roll-out of import taxes on nearly all trading partners.

‘This is the worst self-inflicted policy wound I’ve ever seen in my career inflicted on our economy,’ she told CNN’s Anderson Cooper in an interview. ‘The Trump tariff plans are doing immense damage to our economy.’”

One of the concerns I have long had is Trump has been corrected about twenty times by economists before his reelection regarding how tariffs work. He often implied that China paid for the tariffs, masking that American consumers paid the tariffs after importers passed along the cost. As late as October of last year at an economics conference, he had a hard time articulating how tariffs work. To be brutally frank, the only surprise to me is how quickly the Trump tariffs have harmed our financial reputation. –Keith is at musingsofanoldfart.wordpress.com

Keith on April 13, 2025 at 10:18 pm :Note to Readers: In a Bloomberg interview on October 15, 2024 with Editor in Chief John Micklethwait, the portion on tariffs is noted in a Rolling Stone article: “Trump gets schooled on tariffs. The central pillar of Trump’s economic plan is widespread tariffs on all imported goods, with penalties appearing to increase depending on how much he dislikes the country. Economists have warned that such a policy could have devastating effects on American consumers, who would be saddled with increased costs for all imported goods. When questioned about the specifics of his plan, and if he was aware of its pitfalls, Trump seemed ignorant of basic economic principles, insisting that other countries, not American consumers, would pay for the tariffs…

This Thing Called Religion

Published April 13, 2025 by Nan Mykel

What’s the use of it? In some cases it can function to reduce or prevent anxiety. In other cases, the opposite, as it is lassoed into deadly competition.

There’s a lot more ‘THOU SHALT NOTS” THAN love for fellow men and women, even in the New Testament. As I see it, Religion, as lived out, has little positive to contribute to the quality of life.

Au contraire!

I’m no longer impressed by “Thou shalt and thou shalt nots.” Even Jesus’ goals appear to be puffing himself up. What does “obeying me” have to do with love or spirit? The struggles over religion have become divisive rather than constructive for our souls.:

“Mind me, sonny, and I won’t send you to hell.“

__________________

AN UNRELATED POEM:

Non-Binary

What is your status quo?

This or that, yes or no?

Cisgender’s binary,

but on the contrary

how would it seem

if you fell in between,

not male or female,

but beyond the pale?

An archetype, that’s what

half man half woman but

how to think of yourself

dressed in power and pelf

like a queen or a king?

But yet…but yet…which?

Be the son or the bitch?

And really be neither,

a free-to believer!

Now shut both of your eyes,

try to visualize

YOU! Choose neither one!

And not just for fun!

So don’t ask what I be

I be me! And free!

And non-binary!?

TO THINK OR JUST DO?

Published April 11, 2025 by Nan Mykel

It seems like a reasonable question, but of course it depends on the context. Best yet might be to think and then do. I became curious when I read that Trump promised he would use instinct to finally re-decide his tariff position.

According to reports, during his earlier term Trump showed little interest in the White House’s daily briefings. What does his heavy litany of lies reflect? A preference for instinct versus thinking or does he get them mixed up? Do his emotions light fuses that must be acted out? Has he never had psychotherapy or the chance for a heated Gestalt dialogue with his inner “pig parent?” Not for the first time I wonder if he never had a beloved pet growing up.

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MY SISTER ALLISON’S BIRTHDAY — There were photos of her on last year’s blog, but I’m still stuck on page one of Gutenberg. (I’ve gone deaf so am losing it between the ears.) Just wanted to remember the lovely one who passed back in 1983:: :Allison Buckman “Nikki” Bassett Manning (1942-1983): Birth: 11 Apr 1942. Charlotte, Mecklenburg County, North Carolina, USA. Death: 13 Apr 1983 (aged 41). From Find a Grave, which includes a photo of her. She is remembered with love.

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AGAIN, WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR?

Trump administration cuts funding and staff for flagship climate report–as he orders expansion of the industry: On Tuesday he signed four executive orders designed to boost the U.S. coal industry, outlining steps to protect coal-fired power plants and expedite leases for coal mining on U.S. land. But in touting the benefits of coal, he misrepresented several aspects of its safety and use.

__________________

HIDING CLIMATE ANXIETY

The administration announced it is cutting nearly $4 million in federal funding for climate change research at Princeton University, saying that the work promoted “exaggerated and implausible climate threats” and increased “climate anxiety” among young Americans.. —NY Times’ Climate Forward

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Halloo, GOD! Over Here!

Published April 4, 2025 by Nan Mykel

There’s a deadly virus going around in the United States,, and it is called “Greed.” I was reminded of the word in a reblog on Keith Wilson’s post recently. But I’m still learning Gutenberg so I’m still using page one only, so you’ll have to go fish on Keith Wilson’s blog…

FYI, I’ve been living pillar to post from the day after the eclipse til March 8, when my son-in-law came from Atlanta and worked on additional repairs. Now, in the process of trying to empty 3 storage units, I’ve had to go through more early material, some of which is sort of different, but may be of interest at the risk of being seen as bragging…

To the Tune of My Home Town by Tom Lehrer:

There’s a lady to whom I’ve taken a fancy

who used to be called Nancy

but now is known simply as Nan Mykel.

Oh the pain she has taken us through

learning our addictive cycle.

I really have a yen

to have her lead Phoenix again.

It won’t be the same without our Doctor Nan

for what she has taught us about levels of denial.

We each consider ourself her biggest fan

Remember SAFE?