with  happy music or photos or cartoons or jokes, sprinkled in between the gloom and doom overtaking us.  I wish I could, I wish I would, I think I can…splat!

WOOLGATHERING

I’d like to get some drawings on here. It’s difficult because I shake from essential tremor, not parkinson’s.  I tried the pencil modem and an app on my tablet but I couldn’t get it right. Now I’m gonna try scanning a drawing and trying to get that on–(my doctor prescribes music but that part of my brain is filled with something else) :

But I do collage when I get too antsy. Other people’s art and photos from magazines, so kind of illicit (illegal?).

This is part of a collage I was going to have for my book Fallout, but I decided it would be too much trouble to run all the sources down.

Well, I see a problem here. This material isn’t jokey or sweet music….Sigh.

One day I won’t wake up

or hear the birds

or feel the sun…

The Caution Against Living in the Past:

Hope, trust, wonder, snuggling…It’s okay to live in the past if the past harbors…In my earlier verse I failed  to tell you what I really meant. Feelings, like tubes of  dry paint…They say don’t live in the past, but that’s only if you have a future. No one dare take the farm from my memory’s treasured vault with my grandmother, on her lap and the reassuring sound at night of  coal settling in the grate.

Gather, Ye Children, and You Shall Hear:  We are like frogs, being limited in what we see. The world is only what our perception allows us.

Three separate tributaries feed into the unconscious we can never know. Repression is not one of them, nor denial.

The first is prenatal and natal memories. The second is the adaptive unconscious which can never be directly accessed, though it can effect motivation and orchestrate behavior. The third is via subliminal perception.  I wonder who is overseeing the subliminal messages being sent out over the internet daily?  They aren’t illegal, but I wonder who they’re telling us to vote for?

What kind of flowers are these?

While lying in bed this morning I thought how it would be if instead of remembering all the hurtful things from the past I reviewed all the loving memories that came to me of  each of the important people in my life.  I won’t say more, but at some point you may want to compare the lists.

Read Samantha Michaels’ piece on Trump and Prison Reform in Mother Jones 4/11/19.  Like he did during  that early gun control meeting, he’s taking credit for endorsing prison reform and then sabotaging it.

Answer: Very last paragraph–

(CBS SF) — Scientists with the Marine Mammal Center said Wednesday that the gray whale that washed up on the Rodeo shoreline in unincorporated Contra Costa County last week died of severe malnutrition, but due to decomposition they’ve been unable to pinpoint its underlying cause.  [Is third case]

Maybe I’m jumping the gun, but I’m concerned if there’s reincarnation there’ll be no Earth to return to!  (A little dark humor–sorry).

The cherry blossoms are blooming in Athens, Ohio!  Tulip trees and bradford pears fill the landscape also.  Went for a scenic ride with my daughter on the rural backroads of Meigs County and came across this scene, north of Gallipolis, Ohio:

We saw the flowers in my front yard when we got home.  Don’t know what they are, but they’re lovely.

and that means I can only hold so much before I overflow.  What I really feel like is a spark in Trump’s pile of leaves. If I keep gulping down gasoline I’ll burn to a frazzle.  Blurbs like the following from Meriah Nichols…

Secretary of Education (and champion of no education) Betsy DeVos is proposing to completely eliminate all $18 million of government funding for Special Olympics and then pump $60 million into Charter schools…

Blurbs like those from Meriah Nichols are making me dangerously combustible.  I scare myself when I feel so much rage.  So…I’ve unplugged my tv for awhile, although if there is a future I shall have a glaring blindspot for modern history.  Tears don’t work. Strokes won’t work, violence is what I’m fighting against.  Ignorance everywhere except at the ballot box…maybe I can try praying.

And I just read that they’ve discovered our brain knows when we’re dead!  Let me outta here!                                                                                        fredrik raddum trans ī re