June Idea for a Better Life

June you ended without much rain. How’s the weather in your neck of the woods? Are you in love today? Is there magic in your soul? Does your new project course through mortal veins making you young again?

If not, get off your ass and get it moving. Find what you need, need only what you find, believe your heart, it gives life to your brain NOT the other way around. The universe takes care of those who follow their dreams. Break free and fly fellow human.

Hidden treasure

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Micro-Dust Soccer

Micro-Dust Soccer

Micro-dust
infiltrates small lungs
on hot summer days,
as she kicks
a ball, not knowing

any details, just
run, play, cough, run, laugh, kick.
Grandmother’s hula
dance amuses the playground.
Ribbed interior

keeps her fit,
and she wears a mask
having climbed city
mountain, she
knows how bad it is.

Sand pebbles, dislodged
as the game continues;
it’s the closest they
come to nature, but fear
this: overpowered

does not mean
outmatched, Gaia’s reaction
is to come
visit unannounced,
forcefully. A field

trip in their
living rooms. Shattered windows
soaked carpets,
and if lucky a
chance to play again.

Native Ethics

http://earthweareone.com/native-american-code-of-ethics/

Rise with the sun to pray. Pray alone. Pray often.
The Great Spirit will listen, if you only speak.
~
Be tolerant of those who are lost on their path.
Ignorance, conceit, anger, jealousy and greed stem
from a lost soul. Pray that they will find guidance.
~
Search for yourself, by yourself. Do not allow others
to make your path for you. It is your road, and
yours alone. Others may walk it with you,
but no one can walk it for you.
~
Treat the guests in your home with much consideration.
Serve them the best food, give them the best
bed and treat them with respect and honor.
~
Do not take what is not yours whether from
a person, a community, the wilderness or from a
culture. It was not earned nor given. It is not yours.
~
Respect all things that are placed upon
this earth – whether it be people or plant.
~
Honor other people’s thoughts, wishes and words.
Never interrupt another or mock or rudely mimic them.
Allow each person the right to personal expression.
~
Never speak of others in a bad way. The negative
energy that you put out into the universe
will multiply when it returns to you.
~
All persons make mistakes.
And all mistakes can be forgiven.
~
Bad thoughts cause illness of the mind,
body and spirit. Practice optimism.
~
Nature is not FOR us, it is a PART of us.
They are part of your worldly family.
~
Children are the seeds of our future. Plant
love in their hearts and water them with
wisdom and life’s lessons. When they
are grown, give them space to grow.
~
Avoid hurting the hearts of others.
The poison of your pain will return to you.
~
Be truthful at all times. Honesty is the
test of one’s will within this universe.
~
Keep yourself balanced. Your Mental self, Spiritual
self, Emotional self, and Physical self – all need
to be strong, pure and healthy. Work out
the body to strengthen the mind. Grow
rich in spirit to cure emotional ails.
~
Make conscious decisions as to who
you will be and how you will react. Be
responsible for your own actions.
~
Respect the privacy and personal space of
others. Do not touch the personal property of
others – especially sacred and religious
objects. This is forbidden.
~
Be true to yourself first. You cannot
nurture and help others if you cannot
nurture and help yourself first.
~
Respect others religious beliefs.
Do not force your belief on others.
~
Share your good fortune with others.
Participate in charity.
Sources:
Waking Times
Image Credit

The Dinner Party Chapter 2

Dinner Party Chapter 2 Stuber

Bonfires raged as Stephanie and Jessica danced topless in quest of that native feel. More Indians arrived in Birch Canoes to make the trek up Bare Hill. This festival, celebrating corn, included dancing, music, and storytelling. It went on for days.
Fire surrounded the lake, a tradition Europeans named Ganundua and copied with flares. It must have been late July, as the early corn was already being carted around. Canoes rarely crossed the lake without a few ears tucked away somewhere. The visitors, at least those who feel, cried for the losses yet to come. Rodgers kissed Martin, certainly not in the plan. Orgies followed.
Tad was still going on about bigger and better wars, so, with the encouragement of newfound native alliances, Jack popped him one in the nose. (Thus ends the war argument for this paragraph.)
Tad reveled in the story he could tell fraternity mates. {Have you noticed that NASA suggests the ozone problem is worsening twice as fast as we had once thought. By my count, that means, instead of being uninhabitable by 2092, earth will be food-free by, say, 2040.}
Anyway, a fun time was had by all. Most of the invitees found friends or lovers to start up with. Some natives even risked talking to the “gods” that came by. So many important dreams had already taken place about white-skinned visitors, that “god” was the only status the natives could think to give these strange looking humans.
Talking was done with hand signals at first. The more academically inclined took to learning the Iroquois language. The clever natives looked at their guests very closely. Even though most did not decipher much on their first night together, the visitors remained highly prized guests.
The timing of the corn festival and their arrival could not have been better. The Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga, Mohawk and Onodowaga tribes were gathered in Onodowaga country to celebrate the beginning of another fine corn crop. By this time it was known that the crop would be one of the best ever.

Stuber 2.2

Runners made their preparations to move the corn west and east, south and north, as the crop passed for money in these parts. Sure their were bead belts that were more sacred, more sought-after, more valuable, but for the Iroquois, it was their ability to raise and transport corn that kept them head-and-shoulders above their neighboring nations.
The peace that was created when five warring tribes dropped their weapons allowed them to live in the near-perfect world where play was encouraged. Hard winters made the fall a busy time. The work in the fields was generally done by women and their children. This festival was to help, prepare the women for the hard work ahead. It was a kind of a pregame psyche-up session that lasted for days.
“Oh La La,” Tolkien blurted out as the last spooge for the night combined with clay hunks to form crystal. (Some conference.) “I have a friend who says technology is the only way to save us. He says we should rocket out of here. Well, we certainly have the right people to start new generations by last night’s display,” he said, as the party started waking up.
“Sadly we’re a few generations short of rockets,” Martin said, “and nature isn’t going to run out on us while we’re visiting.”
“How sophomoric. I was referring to our ability to procreate,” Tolkien replied while looking for fire wood.
“I wonder what month we’re in, feels like fall setting in,” Larsen said.
“I think this is August. Maybe we’re in Canada, it is surely a cold morning for August,” Tolkien said.
The large white snake looms, “My Blue Lake” is seen by some, hovering a foot over the water. The great law of peace oversees a sycamore that stretches out over untapped fields. Only the unforgiving miss the moment in their brains.
“Why was this century such a mindless one for this continent?” Catherine the Great mused.
“These people know more about nature than most of your ministers did,” Woolf pointed out.
“I had the world’s most culturally advanced court.”
“So? You still never accomplished all that you wanted to. And your beloved Russia fell back into marauding Cossacks quicker than you could imagine,” Woolf

Stuber 2.3

responded.
“If we’re here to save these people, our arguments will get us nowhere. We need a war to drive out the stinking English. It was the English who broke up the partnership between the French and natives around here. If the French had won that war, this continent would have been much more laissez-faire.”
Sounds like she’s a changed woman. (One last orgy before the rebirth of war?)
“And the whales cry,” Garcia said. It’s a bit early for Garcia , but, just as dogwood’s leaves lead to blooming Rhododendron, the dark branches of rain soaked trees provide contrast for watercolorists.
“So you want to find a solution? Find yourself,” Jessica suggested.
Woolf laughed.
This crazy off-camera muse “Ed” keeps suggesting the addition of detail. He doesn’t know me and my penchant for abstractions, but, the night before the “orgy”
the participants ate dinner. It consisted of bear and venison as well as green beans, corn, lima beans and ample rounds of hemp smoking. There were also sips of C. the G.’s Vodka and Stephanie’s Amaretto. No twinges of infecting the natives with firewater, since they had the peace pipe to start with.
Let’s interrupt last night’s supper during the conversation part.
Allman: I don’t know whose dream this is, but I’m sick and tired of playing puppet. The least we can do is write songs about the forthcoming Indian decimation. Maybe it will help them or warn them.
Marley: If we could figure out their language, it would be better to save them with songs they could understand.
Garcia: They’d have to be memorable songs, maybe we could rework some of your songs with that native beat Bob.
Larsen: Hey, I was killer on bass, and I never played before!
Garcia: You want to be a part of our band?
Larsen: That would be great!
Corcoran: Shush Jeanne, let them write their tunes.
Of course Corcoran didn’t realize the enormous potential she had for writing

Stuber 2.4

tunes. But, Kandinsky, still next to Allman, talking with Tolkien, Nostradamus and a reborn C. the G. broke in:
Kandinsky: Why don’t we try to save a small area. Where was that place Columbus landed?
Tolkien: San Salvador, it’s one of the Bahamas. Actually quite a bit Southeast of what they called the West Indies.
Kandinsky: Why don’t we try to save San Salvador then.
Tolkien: Well, the natives left or were breaded out, but, believe it or not, San Salvador remained resort-free, except for one little inn, throughout my lifetime. Kandinsky: So let’s save the whole Bahamas then.
Tolkien: The islands incorporated a large African population because of the rum traders, and you should know, that, except for a group of snobby British bankers and the occasional pamphlet publisher, the Bahamas are mostly natives. From a long-term perspective, the most you’d ever want to change there are the tacky tourist hotels.
C. the G.: I’ve always wondered what type of fun you could have with Africans, but I think I’ve found a man in Running Bear that could fulfill all my desires. I hope this dream doesn’t end, maybe I can sneak off and avoid going
back to Hell.
And if pigs had wings they could fly. But C. the G. introduced the first native nicely for us, which could bend us around to a less Philistine approach to continent-saving.
Sadly, Running Bear was not only not hanging around the official “Day-After-the-Orgy” proceedings, he wasn’t at dinner last night either. Running Bear, skeptical, took refuge with Catherine across the lake at Seneca Point. (That’s Seneca the Indians, not Seneca the Latin quipster.) {Note , they called themselves Onodowaga} That leaves us nowhere, so, waiting for the burst into native thinking, we’ll have a lyrical passage.
This jump also puts us back into the author’s experiences in the 20th century, for those scoring at home.

Stuber 2.5

Waves lap birch, flow north. The West River,
Overgrowing with algae, barely supports the vineyards
Once thought to be valuable. Some wine monger
Invents a sweetened cooler which saves the concord
Growers: the last farmers in these parts are the
Only real people around. There’s no living fishing
These lakes anymore. Beauty succumbs to
Cigarettes cruising 200 feet above leery Lake Trout.

Dropping a heavy line to the fishes preferred
Temperature, and feeling a bite from that far
Away, then carefully reeling is a boring but noble
Way to snag a meal. Only fierce winters could
Possibly cleanse so much motor oil. “You have to look
Both ways when leaving your dock for Christ’s sake!”
No, not for Him, but for the geode left alone,
The undug trilobite snuggled in shale perfectly

Piled in the age old tradition of moraine damming.
Mostly stop for the trout, pike, walleye. Even the memory
Of Running Bear should drive any human being to get
The hell off the lake. An adolescent murmur,
A “boo lake” of childhood, a white capped sail in
Creaking sunfish, wind 60, boat 30 knots, a
Full hike required, hair slapping waves, rain moving in.
The last tearful memory of any dying man who’s ever

Had the luck to be around it. Hills diving to cliffs
Under a picnic lunch served off the end of a
1962 Chris Craft go slightly unappreciated
In the mouths of 8-year-old birthday party attendees.
Croquet on the lawn now being sold by the square foot,
38-round badminton volleys kept up even though
Your half sister insists on running through the game.
Sixty three degree water plunged-into on a hot day.

Stuber 2.6

Dandelion puff-balls competing with the
Just-combed hair of Brandy, the world’s
Quintessential retriever. Small white, large red
Puffs, dodging squirrels: one trying to hang
On to life, the other, seeking new generations,
Both bothering persnickety lawn manicurists
Whose second goal in life is the perfect rose
Garden, first being a sterile household. Oh my.

Winds interfere, ducks lead confused offspring,
A ten-slap skipper goes unrecorded except
By the tosser. Occasional craw dads escape
Persecution by their evil captors who race
The rest across land. And dad tugging five-year-
Olds down to Rosenthals where retribution for
Dislodged fence rocks comes in the form of
Two weeks labor. Remember those days?

Days of warm days, cool nights. Now,
In less than half a lifetime, its sweltering
All the time. Winter. What happened to that
Cleansing month? Snow, flood, mud, clean:
Used to happen every March. You would
Hope it still happens at least in Asia
Where tradition has allowed billions to
Snake a living out of so little. Movie stars

Are not the thinkers to save our planet,
But thinking is only optional in the
Money-first world. Here Running Bear
Takes over the thinking, his diatribe
Is listed under number one in the
Endnotes. So flip back to number one
And find out how he looks at things.
C. the G. has good taste.

 

 

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  • Before You Speak

    Before you speak, let your words pass through three gates. At the first gate, ask yourself, ‘Is it true?’ At the second ask, ‘Is it necessary?’ At the third gate ask ‘Is it kind? Rumi  Translated by Coleman Barks

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“The Dinner Party,” a novella in 11 chapters plus endnotes, copyright, Doug Stuber, 1992.  Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The Question

The question
comes from young girl’s eyes:
“when do we go, and
why?” It’s the
why part that causes

her mother to stop.
She fiddles her bag
strap and lies.
Family of two
about to embark:

a journey
into the blue. None
notice the important
signals, but
her eyes tear, evade

inquiry, stare out
onto tarmac. A
bus pulls in,
they leave. Physical
realm, so hard at times,

so Mom taps
the spiritual within,
keeps smiling,
breathing, comforting
this strange
movement so

her daughter
gets a chance to figure it
out one step
at a time. Four years:
adult already.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The Dinner Party, Movie Casting

Directed by: David Lynch Produced by Bette Midler

Casting:
JACK: JACK NICHOLSON
STEPHANIE: STEPHANIE SEYMOUR
KATHERINE B. : NICOLE KIDMAN
JEANNE LARSEN: JEANNE LARSEN
DUANE ALLMAN: GREGG ALLMAN He could sue us over this movie, so get him on board.
BOB MARLEY: ZIGGY MARLEY
CATHERINE THE GREAT: MERYL STREEP
RUNNING BEAR: NICHOLAS CAGE
TAD: (Red-haired kid in “Breakfast Club, then “Saturday Night Live”)
BOBBING TAIL: CHIRSTINA RICCI
FAWN: DREW BARRYMORE
WASSILY KANDINSKY: RUSSIAN PAINTER, who cares if he can act.
NOSTRADAMUS: ROBERT DOWNEY JR.
JESSICA: JESSICA LANGE
VIRGINIA WOOLF: LAURA DERN
JRR TOLKIEN: JUDE LAW
JERRY GARCIA: (Himself) I don’t know who the hell could play him now that he’s dead
FLYING OWL: ATTRACTIVE ONEIDAN NATIVE, WITH MAORI TWIST .
DARTING SWALLOW: Britney Spears with dyed black hair.
CHARGING BUCK: Leonardo Di Caprio
GULL FEATHER: Tori Amos
SUNSHINE: Sissy Spacek
WIDE HAWK: Lou Diamond Phillips
BROWN TROUT: Christian Slater
SMOKE: Brad Pitt
CROW: Woody Harrelson

 

 

 

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  • Before You Speak

    Before you speak, let your words pass through three gates. At the first gate, ask yourself, ‘Is it true?’ At the second ask, ‘Is it necessary?’ At the third gate ask ‘Is it kind? Rumi  Translated by Coleman Barks

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“The Dinner Party,” a novella in 11 chapters plus endnotes, copyright, Doug Stuber, 1992.  Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

GD 2

GD2

Amber smile beckons,
notebooks pile as lack
of job means time to
write. Moneyless is freedom:
a jail cell

to anyone else.
Great words pop
from jails though.
Weldschmertz a trifle
mosquito

buzz in the ear, to
he who continues
research: a good stick,
sommelier, lover of small
snow, large weeds

that fall and sprout in
Keene, that school
town in a
conservative state,
dependent on large

fossil heat
augmented by beer doses,
Turner’s oiled
merriment, emailed
epistles only

Kerouac
or Bukowski could ever
decipher
correctly. Genius
in old clothes, plod on.

24 June 2012

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Priorities #1

PRIORITIES #1

Limiting access to or putting a fast lane on the Internet, thus privatizing it, is exactly the same as banning assembly. Imagine being charged to hold a town meeting! (…as if Patriot Acts One and Two were not a huge enough affront to the Constitution!)

And who passed out a license to sell natural resources? Aren’t they a gift from God? The airwaves come to mind. As if advertising wasn’t enough of an interruption, along came cable to privatize TV. These are part and parcel of an urbanized population, like electricity in the home.

Power lines had to be built, and, for instance, coal needs to be mined, so paying for coal-fired power plants makes sense. In nuclear fuels, uranium over Thorium was a gigantic error, but ensured profits due to the “rarity” of uranium, compared to Thorium which is everywhere. Both these types of electric power generation should be halted as soon as possible.

Not for a second do I favor nuclear energy over solar, wind, hydro, because, nuclear, of course, causes pollution and the threat of extremely toxic pollution for thousands of years after the rods a spent. Fukushima may well exterminate a large percentage of us as 2500 spent fuel rods must be moved by hand before their buildings collapse, otherwise it’s an unparalleled chain reaction KABOOM. The three year process of moving them has yet to begin because no one can figure out how to do it safely. Nuclear war would be worse. Not much worse.

Bottled water, and plastic in general run a close race with carbon emitting electricity for “most insane for the longest period of time” notoriety. But also in the money is fossil fuel consumption for individual vehicles. Why trucks over trains? The teamsters can tell you but the logic is a failure. Short-haul trucks could get to the spots not covered by tracks.

Which country will follow along and ban plastic bags? Which will take one work’s of the money spent on bottled water and clean up every municipal, suburban and rural water supply? Which government will stop spending money on war and pay the massive number of currently-unemployed to hit the sea clean up the gigantic floating country (Korea sized) of floating plastic in the Pacific. Anchors Aweigh indeed.

Who will lead the way and ban automobiles in their country? They sure aren’t needed in Europe or South Korea. Take any jobs lost from such a move and hire the people to work cleaning up myriad pollution urgencies. The DMZ here in Korea proves, when untouched by man, wilderness prevails, and animals too. Is it only Ecuador that can muster the moxie to accept money to NOT drill oil? What good is this plan when new drivers pop up in Asia by the fist-load every day? And how many of us have quit the habit in North America? How can we?

Could there be a law requiring tele-commuting? How about one the puts a limit (7 miles or so) on the distance between work and home? Would these be more unconstitutional than a private Internet!?

With patented seeds that produce that leave no usable seeds for the next year, genetically modified organisms (GMOs) have made life so hard for farmers in India 55,000 have committed suicide so far. They had no idea what their own farm bureaucracy had in store for them. Crops with no usable seeds!? This inevitably leads to agri-business farming more-costly food (even if 20% more crops are squeezed out per acre) and (he writes, asking for mercy) a population beyond the earth’s resource capacity.

Already, so they say, we use up five years worth of resources every year. How long, when coupled with Global Warming’s climate change and its whopper storms and droughts, can we humans expect to survive? I figure food delivery becomes a boom business as arable land and food resources dry up (or flood). Watch for truck and train hijackings, if they are carrying food. The Wild Wild West could return to the USA if our economy really tanks. And since most other economies sell a lot of goods inn the USA, a ripple effect is guaranteed.

Why are Google and a handful of others the only ones willing to invest in projects like the infrastructure needed to allow various sized wind farms off the east coast of the US? Why aren’t solar farms and individual homes required by law where feasible? Haven’t the utility companies monopolized resources and spread black lung disease long enough?

We could step toward a sustainable earth, or continue on as is. The problem with status quo capitalism is that so many people are getting poorer, and it does not leave anything for future generations except war, starvation and agony.

Is any government willing to force its people to bite the bullet now? None on the horizon. It means major tragedies to come as proven by Rwanda, Somalia, Sudan, US versus the world for fossil fuels. If consumerism were traded for agrarian sharing and “build-only-that-which-does-not-pollute” economies, sure enough we’d have a lot less doo-dads, and less money would flow to the top 5%.

But the world’s population might stabilize naturally not via war and starvation. Sure the top 5% would be hurt by such legislation, but we’d have a planet our great-grandchildren could play on, rather than fight over.

 

 

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Admonishment

Admonishment

Sleep young dreamers, believe they will come true, because this
is the age of disparity, and you are among the few who will
own enough, some arable land, a fence and a chicken or two.
That baseball star, soccer star stuck in your head need never
go away. Baby blue meets yellow on the ramp ascending
to the peace and play all children know, or used to. Massive
inhumanity now comes into view, and the games we watch make
it all disappear, but there is plenty to do. Imagine the kids
toting Kalashnikovs dodging, firing their daily rounds, so new
to life, so brutalized, in the time of patented food, subsidized
to death, suicide seeds that don’t grow for the future, just one
shot profit, like glue for St. Louis, adhering to a business model
that, at any time or whim, can starve you too. So play and dream
in these unique lands, gain a point of view, but first be prepared
to laugh with mates, work hard, protect your loves, reach for the
proof, and then reprove that your heart stayed on track. You know
mine has, and at times against severe opposition from within. Our
house is a magic place with its trees and space and animals you
need. Go off in youth, mid-life, but remember the poor and come
back to farm if you must. I will stay here waiting, smiling, for you.

 

 

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The Dinner Party, a Novella in 11 Chapters, with Endnotes, Chapter One

Chapter One

Dinner Party

Monica Corcoran, Jerry Garcia, Bob Marley and Katherine B. were sitting next to James Rodgers, Jack, J.R.R. Tolkien and Ashley Martin at a dinner party. They had been invited by Corcoran, to sit in a ganohses (longhouse) halfway down the east side of Canandaigua Lake. The year was 1622. Blue Lake stories pervaded as Virginia Woolf walked in with a subdued Nostradamus, Catherine the Great and Wasily Kandinsky. Tad Stuber and “Stephanie” lounged in with Jessica, Jeanne Larsen and Duane Allman.
The pow-wow was set to see who could do the most to stop Europeans from coming across the ganyodeowaneh. Or, at least insert the native culture deep within the collective psyche of the oncoming tribes of explorers. News of men from the ocean arrived before this party. Scouts on the eastern edge of the Haudenosaunee nations had already heard of the Puritans landing in a place they named Plymouth.
Corcoran was amazed that no natives were around to greet them. She decided to explain a little more about her intentions for the dinner party.
“I can’t believe this party is happening, but you should listen up. My friend and I decided to have this party in order to help the natives fend off the Europeans. We’re here to save this place for them,” she said.
A few invitees started to grumble. James, Ashley and Tad in particular were anxious about their surroundings.
“I was just sitting around my dorm room one day when this crazy bass player asked if we had ever played the game ‘dinner party’ before. I told him I never heard of it. Anyway, the game is simple: we invited some of our favorite people here so we could get to know them. The thing is, we got to invite anyone from history that we wanted to.”
“So why on earth did you invite me?” Stephanie asked.
“I don’t know. I thought you were one of his better choices actually,” Corcoran responded.
“Well, at least we came with the stuff we had on us. I think the whole thing is
bullshit. I’m going outside to play, anyone interested,” Jack said as he waived a lemon-sized sack of bean-bag beans in the air.
A few followed him our the door. Jack rested the hacky-sack on his forehead then started a round with Jessica, Katherine B., Kandinsky and Allman.
Amidst errant volleys, Jack suggested a conspiracy. “Pirates, only equipped with cigarette boats and huge chains. Just turn them away.”
“A peaceful thought but it won’t work,” Katherine B. interjected.
“Maybe a war would keep them away,” Tad said. “We could borrow some toys from the Pentagon and keep this place safe forever.”
“Unless you’re better at time jumping than I am, I don’t think that will work out,” Allman said. “Who are you anyway?”
“Tad’s the name, and I say that the only way to conserve this space is to bomb the heck out of the invaders. The technology will blow them back into the dark ages.”
Bob Marley overhears from behind a birch branch in the house. He’s unimpressed. “Look, it’s not the people, it’s the greed, and the technology itself that stink!”
“We need to make sure the continent remains agrarian,” Martin said, peering over smashed beans and corn meal.
(Not knowing Martin, the author assumes she knows what she’s talking about. But she said it, so that’s that.)
The ganohses they have landed in is one set up for special meetings. Highly decorated mats make sitting on the ground a little more comfortable for the 20th century visitors. Nostradamus sat in a corner meditating. No mat needed.
Now Duane Allman was not a good hacky player. The poor boy tried, and after being teased by Kandinsky, quit. Wassily quit too, opting to take Stephanie and Jessica behind the bushes for an artist/model strategy session. Because he was so used to painting abstracts, Kandinsky had to remember how to instruct the Russian methods of posing before teaching it. He hadn’t used a model in years, but their figures were compelling. He only had a few colors and two canvasses, so he knew each stroke would have to count. The session didn’t last long.
Catherine the Great, now free to ponder the fate of America, suggested: “A new
poverty. That’s what this continent needs. Mindless serfs with pure loyalty to our ideals. The natural resources should only be in the hands of those who know how to use them.”
“How obvious,” Marley quipped.
“There has to be a way to get to the heart of the problem. We need to meet with these people and get them motivated as soon as possible,” C. the G. suggests.
“Motivated to do what?” Woolf asked.
“To fight to save their homeland!”
“It doesn’t matter what they do. The enslaving tactics of the Europeans will either wipe them out, or use them like they used the Africans. I don’t think our little band of do-gooders is going to be able to win a war against all of Europe,” Marley said.
Tad, overhearing all this added: “Look, around here I think it was the French who came in first. We wouldn’t have to hold off all of Europe.”
Marley, not wanting to stay involved in war talk, meandered over to Allman. He recognized Duane from the album cover of “Live at Fillmore East”. It was one of the albums Marley cherished.
“Aren’t you Duane Allman?”
“Sure am.”
“What do you think about all of this?”
“I can’t believe I’m in the middle of some ancient times. Why did I show up with my motorcycle and electric guitar, when they are useless?”
“Don’t know, but I’d trade ten cups of this tea for just one cup of coffee,” Marley said, trying to tip off his identity.
“‘One Cup of Coffee,’ wasn’t that an obscure Bob Marley side from the early sixties?”
“Guess so. Who do you think you’re talking to?”
“Oh my God! I’m sorry man, I didn’t recognize you. Your hair should have given it away,” Allman said.
“This is great, we can have a serious jam.”
“I saw a teenager with a guitar walking around too,” Allman said. “He’s got an old Martin, a real beauty. Maybe we should get together.”
“Sounds good to me, let’s go find the guy with the guitar,” Marley said, smiling.
While the two musicians went in search of Garcia, Tolkien was holding court with Mr. Rodgers and Ashley Martin.
“To limit the free choice of America’s inhabitants is unfair, yet allowing Europeans to wipe out the Indians is also unfair. It seems to me that the Indians could have lived here indefinitely without spoiling the place. We need to find a way to let them have it,” he said in a rather thick French accent.
Martin and Rodgers were speechless.
Jessica and Stephanie, accompanied by Kandinsky, returned to the ganohses and interrupted Nostradamus’ meditation.
“Hi, I’m Stephanie, what’s your name?”
No response.
“Excuse us for interrupting your meditation, but we were wondering why you weren’t introducing yourself,” Jessica said.
“My name is Nostradamus.”
“Nostradamus!?” Kandinsky exclaimed.
“Not the guy Orson Welles went on and on about?” Stephanie asked.
“Excuse me, but I am simply a French monk. I have studied the stars and meditated about the future. Apparently, I am now in the future.”
“The future? What century do you come from?” Stephanie asked.
“Not even one-hundred years ago, by my guess. This must be some type of second life, but I do not recognize the way you dress, or the area we are in.”
“My name is Jessica. I was a housewife living on the outskirts of a city called Charlottesville, Virginia in the 20th Century before I died.
“I was a model,” Stephanie said.
“No doubt about that,” Kandinsky confirmed.
Nostradamus, struck by their beauty, pondered cashing vows for a four-way. This type of kinky thought rarely infected the brain waves of Nostradamus, but everything was weird to him at this point. He had predicted he would return in the future, but hadn’t thought it would be so soon after his death.
Wassily, looking at fate from the monk’s perspective, wondered if it was worth it to try to help, as he was invited to do, or whether painting and living life to the fullest were a valid response to the place he had been put into.
At the main meeting table, Garcia, a 20th century minstrel ponders the situation.
He had lived an entire life in the 20th Century. He can almost remember that, but he feels and acts much younger now. All he can distinctly remember about the 20th century was taking a trip with a friend to attend a bluegrass festival in Galax, Virginia.
They had started out in a broken down car from California. His friend got more and more disgruntled as they drove through the desert, blew the transmission and had to start hitch-hiking. Somewhere around Las Vegas, his friend had given up. Undaunted, Garcia continued the trek, guitar in hand.
He remembered arriving a day late, but instantly started jamming around a huge tent with Doc Watson, the blind bluegrass legend who was the most legitimate incarnation of the music that had been transported to the hills of West Virginia, Tennessee and Kentucky from Ireland in the 18th Century. Garcia realized the importance of the occasion. It was as a teenager, with guitar in hand that he arrived in Ganandauguay.
Garcia: “People will follow their hearts no matter what we do. Earth is here to respond to those needs. It will make the adjustments as necessary. If humans waste their chance here, earth will dispatch them.”
“Dispatch, dispatch, the question here is what to do with Europeans,” Woolf clarifies. “It’s not fair for me because the people from my island escaped injustice and followed their hearts. Then they wiped out the Indians, as if that was what God wanted.”
This statement caused a stir in Nostradamus, so he walked over to the table.
“God!” Nostradamus screamed, “what you know of God is minimal, but listen to this theory: planets around the universe go through relatively the same cycle. First, the animal life finds a way to use up the resources. When and if the inhabitants escape, they try to warn the next planet. Thus, the bible, me, and the inevitable. About 10% of the idiot planets don’t develop far enough before they’re used up. You can count on earth being one of these, and it all started with the greed of the United States, dear Virginia.”
{I saw an Eskimo walking with a huge pack in an ethereal fog the other day, right
here in Roanoke, Virginia, Virginia.} (1991)
Meanwhile, Duane began to shape extra guitar-like instruments from cat-gut and

crafted sticks he borrowed from newfound Indian friends. Duane’s own guitar, a red hollow-body 1956 Gibson was meant to be played through an amplifier, but the hollow
body made it almost loud enough to hear over the loud singing blues of Garcia and Bob Marley. Larsen sat in on a homemade bass, with Corcoran on drums.
Larsen’s playing could be described as rhythmic. The correct pitch was hard to come by, as her instrument was less effective than the old washtub-broomhandle-string set-up made famous in bluegrass jug bands.
Corcoran’s “drumming” made reggae out of the question, but she at least kept up. She was using three ceremonial drums borrowed from the back of the meeting room. Garcia lead the singing of the ad-libbed first song, with Marley harmonizing with a vocal howl a third above in the verse and a third or fifth below in the chorus.
Garcia played rhythm guitar on Allman’s Gibson, while Allman used Garcia’s 1952 Martin to play lead slide guitar.

Ganandauguay

There’s a special chosen place that’s caused some nasty wars.
We dropped in from all over, this place isn’t like before.
And if you love your good neighbor,
We’ll let you stay here some more.

Chorus: I’m going to get back to the Ganandauguay blues.
I’m going to jump back in to the Ganandauguay blue.
My mind is blown by the beauty,
Won’t you come and join me too?

We got pretty little ladies, such wonderful sights to see.
We got nature in our souls and our minds are finally free.
And if you think you’re happy now,
Wait until you come in swimming with me.

Chorus

(Here Duane took a major lead, drawing looks of awe from some natives who had just emerged from the woods.)

We got to keep the place as clean as it was before.
It’s been so long since this place has seen a war.
So why don’t you join me,
And we’ll find a way to even the score.

Chorus

There’s a special chosen place that’s caused some nasty wars.
We got people from all over we never met before.
And if you love your good neighbor,
We’ll let you stay here some more.

* * *
The song ended, with natives apparently howling their approval. They had snuck in unnoticed.
They didn’t understand a word of the lyrics, but the primitive music fit their style.
The reason the natives were howling had nothing to do with the music. They were screaming to drive these white ghosts away. Two bows are drawn before Darting Sparrow, an up and coming young fighter, stepped in to stop what would have been an instant massacre of the invitees.
“Enihe!” Darting Sparrow shouted. {It means “stop”.}
The evening is setting in, which makes the tension between the two groups increase with each passing firefly.
Larsen starts to work out a sign language with Darting Sparrow.
“Look, I think he understands that we have come from the future,” she said to Virginia Woolf.
“As long as what you are saying keeps him from turning on us, we’ll be all right,” Woolf responded.
“He’s too young to have any authority,” Kandinsky pointed out.
“But if he’s a scout, we need to convince him we’re on his side, or we could all get killed before we even know what year it is, no less where the heck we are,” Larsen said.
Larsen pulled out a handkerchief and made it into the shape of a heart. She opened her hand and closed it on the hanky to make the representation of a beating heart. She then held the beating heart to her chest and made a motion like she was pulling her own heart out of her chest. She danced around with bent knees and showed the heart to all the natives. Again they howled.
“He eh ni ye” Darting Sparrow said. {Loosely translated – don’t do that.}
It really was scaring some scouts, other were just mad that she was able to one-up

Darting Sparrow. He had to get her back, but then Larsen offered him the hanky.
Again the crowd howled.
Larsen bent on her knee, kept the heart throbbing, and again offered it to Darting Sparrow. Darting Sparrow smiled and accepted the heart. He even showed the cloth to his companions, and pretended to keep the heart beating.
This display lasted long enough for more natives to arrive. The meeting house was the destination of the Turtle clan. The Turtle clan ran through the Onondaga, Cayuga, Oneida, Mohawk and Onodowaga. Even though they had previously had wars with these other tribes, the members of the Onodowaga, Turtle clan had a closer relationship with other Turtle clan members from the other tribe, than most of the members of other clans in their own tribe.
Since Larsen and her friends had arrived in the Snipe clan’s meeting house, it was going to be up to the Turtle clan to accept them, banish them, torture them or kill them.
Darting Sparrow repeated the heart demonstration to the elders of his clan. Larsen again tried to explain in sign language that they were from the future. The clan decided to take their discovery to the entire meeting that night.
Jessica, Stephanie and Katherine B. were already getting some attention from their native hosts. The men were smiling at them. The women were pawing at their clothes.
“Agwas do ges ogethae henoyo goh ganoohgwa sha,” Darting Sparrow said. {It’s really true, I talked [to them] they come in love.}
The elders talked about their guests and seemed to trust Darting Sparrow’s faith in their peaceful intentions. Jack almost ruined it for everybody when coming inside from his hacky-sack game.
“What’s going on here, for Christ’s sakes,” Jack said in a rough sarcastic tone.
“Cool it Jack, Jeanne went through a pantomime that convinced the Indians we were coming in peace. I don’t think they like your tone,” Jessica said.
“Tone!? They’re the ones howling all the time! Here we are stuck out in the middle of the woods in God knows which century and you’re going to knit-pick about tone? You’re more uptight than your hoity-toity Charlottesville neighbors!”
“Look Jack,” Katherine B. interjected, “first of all, don’t get on the Shenandoah valley, I live there too. Secondly, keep it down. If the natives get the idea that we’re not united then they won’t treat us all the same. the way I see it, we have the upper hand. They may even treat us as special guests as long as we remain calm and act like mature adults.”
“All right then, it’s starting to get dark, who’s going to sleep where, and with whom?”
“You’re a pig, Jack,” Katherine B. said.
The argument humored the natives. Jeanne walked over to the combatants.
“Look, we’ve got to be a little more civil. These people are now laughing at you. We have a chance to impress them with our knowledge. Our first goal has to be to communicate with them. If we can’t impress them, we’ll be dead.”
“We don’t have to impress anybody. This is like a second life for me. I’m going to have fun at it. I don’t give a rat’s ass about why we were “invited” here by some sophomore. I mean she’s fairly cute, but I don’t have to date the hostess. You seem like you’ve got your head on straight. What do you say we blow this meeting house and go out by the fire?” “No thanks.”
“Fine,” Jack said as he turned to Jessica and the others. “Anybody up for a little sing around the campfire?”

 

 

 

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  • Before You Speak

    Before you speak, let your words pass through three gates. At the first gate, ask yourself, ‘Is it true?’ At the second ask, ‘Is it necessary?’ At the third gate ask ‘Is it kind? Rumi  Translated by Coleman Barks

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“The Dinner Party,” a novella in 11 chapters plus endnotes, copyright, Doug Stuber, 1992.  Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Diane Spellman Stuber

On June 19 1931, probably a tricky day to be born, mom came into a generous and musical family in Pittsford, New York. Delmar, her dad, played trumpet and mellophone and Beverly would soon be a piano star. It being the depression, the story goes that her father walked to work as a carpenter about 8 miles each way to earn a day wage of 25 cents (about $20 when adjusted for 80 years of inflation). Still, with a house a block away from the rail station, the inevitable dinner guests, one per day, would show up having jumped the train just as it slowed down after the bridge over the Eerie Canal. Their house was marked and Delmar never removed the mark though their third and fourth Child had just been born.

Catherine Faulkner Spellman, their mom also worked as a schoolteacher before all the children. She was funny, hummed a lot, and baked the best pie (remember the crust!?) even though she did submit us to strawberry rhubarb now and then and I still don’t know why.

Jack, Diane, Beverly and Delma Lynn, known locally as Chink, became a war hero, children’s clothing store owner, music professor, and teacher respectively to narrow it down. But the tall handsome Dad they had, though full of life, died young. With Jack enlisted to fight World War II, Diane began her lifelong battle to win a self made rat race that keep us all working hard in fear of not living up to her standards. Ah but it was that motivation that kept her own three sons ahead of the curve.

A video of Mom’s highlights would start and end with huge parties, filled by a lot of water sports at Canandaigua and piano duets with Beverly and with a cigarette smoking sequence for sure.

How much does it take to nurse a son through five years in the hospital? Mike and I only knew the home-version as a series of housekeepers tried to keep us in line while Tad battled and mom worked, a legendary hound to nurses and doctors alike. And she took him to Toronto, San Diego, Baltimore for 35 years.

She made me leave when Tad was dying in 2002 and that was her only mistake.

She said her job was done right then and there, but lived until May 20, 2005. I’d wheel her out to see sunsets and she’d have me light up a cigarette even post-hospice in her last three days. Tough one she was, and on her own terms.

Boat Dinner Dance

Boat Dinner Dance

Dinner on
the Danube with James,
Johnny and Girlie comes with
dancing (Waltz to Watusi)
on a slow

boat the provides us
perfect shots
of Budapest at
night. A tall Russian,
four Chinese, and two

really good
dancers (though not in
partnership) one male: ballroom
star, one female: with extra
high-heeled kicks

thrown in to perfect
rhythm in
the most mini dress,
a trophy bride for
successful pink shirt

marketer.
Girlie looks a little hurt,
three months with
child. The pleasure is
new friends, sharing life’s

bounty, as
earth spreads wealth unevenly.
Whether new
or reuniting,
nothing beats a dance.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2012 Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

How China Feeds it Population , by FLZ

By FLZ

How China feeds its population

China is known as the developing country with the most population. And in 50 years after the World War II, new fast growing China is facing a problem that other countries have never met in history: How to feed 1.4 billion people?
Unlike the western world’s complete free market economy, the economic system used in China is called the socialist market economy with Chinese characteristics. It’s a market economy but every key economic factors are under the government’s macro-control.

“The government has strengthened the coordination of coal, electrical power, oil and transportation to maintain the link between supply and demand of major raw materials. It has also reduced allocation quotas for consumption of electricity, oil and coal for companies that fail to meet industry entry standards.

The government has taken a series of policy measures to encourage grain production, including direct subsidies, seed subsidies, exemption of agricultural taxes and price control on agricultural production materials.” 1

Even China has grown rapidly for years there are still countless people who are living a tough life in China. Controlling every key economic factors ensures those low-income people’s quality of life. And the highly developed agriculture ensures adequate supply of food.

“The Chinese government has been very active in shaping the nation’s food policy because it’s closely linked to the issues of inflation and social stability. In 2011, inflation increased at double digit rates. Most recently, In September, the inflation rate reached 13%.This was caused by growing demand for food, weather disasters that hindered crop production and a liquidity injection by the Chinese government to fight off the aftershocks of the 2008 financial crisis. Consequently, a series of violent protests broke out in inner Mongolia and spread to Guangdong. In response, the government constrained lending to maintain stability and low prices. The Chinese government has used its might to reign in food prices while guaranteeing food supplies.”2

The Chinese government has implemented policies to stimulate the agriculture and reduce import cost. They keep food and other necessities for life in a very low price so the poor people could have a normal life as those people who are much wealthier. Inflation could easily destroy their life by raising prices and increasing their debts. And that’s why inflation has a great negative impact on China.
We can see the changes in inflation rate in the two charts below:

Graph CPI China last year

AA Fan graph 1

Graph CPI China long-term

AA Fan Graph 2

“When we talk about the rate of inflation in China, this often refers to the rate of inflation based on the consumer price index, or CPI for short. The Chinese CPI shows the change in prices of a standard package of goods and services which Chinese households purchase for consumption. In order to measure inflation, an assessment is made of how much the CPI has risen in percentage terms over a given period compared to the CPI in a preceding period..” 3
China Inflation has two main effects:
1. Real income falls down.
If a hyper-inflation happens in China, prices will rise sharply and unlike the western developed countries, Chinese low-income people don’t have savings to sustain their normal life, and it would directly cause various kinds of serious social problems. Inflation will widen the gap between wealthy and poor, those people with lowest income will be the most affected because the price of house and other properties will keep rising so the rich people and middle class could reduce their losses or even make profit by raising prices. That’s how an over-sized middle class threats the ability of the low-income families to afford to live.
2. The reduction of social welfare.
In China, most of the enterprise development funds come from bank loans, inflation will transfer risks to state bank and slows down the economic development and the government has to tax more and reduce social welfare to maintain the daily cost.
Does a large middle class insure inflation?

“Inflation can be caused by many factors:

1. Rising wages
2. Import prices
3. Raw Material Prices
4. Profit Push Inflation
5. Declining productivity
6. Higher taxes” 4

Yes. The inflation in China has two sources: agricultural commodities and imported commodities.
1. Agriculture. The biggest urbanization happened In China in the past 50 years, living in a city means better income and more possibilities. All the young people in rural area went to cities in order to find a better job. It means there won’t be enough labor for farming. It caused the high agricultural products’ prices.
2. Imported commodities. China fast-growing economy stimulates consumption and the middle class starts to purchase imported commodities with better qualities. The demand of imported commodities keeps rising and it finally resulted in the rising prices of all imported commodities and high taxes.
Those rising prices led to inflation. The expansion of middle class had a great influence in the process of rising prices.
Difference in DEBT LEVELS between farmers and workers

“In 2013, 37.70 percent of Chinese farmer household has debts, the debt per farmer household stood at 55,113 yuan ($8,856.66), the ratio of debt to income was at 155 percent, and 10.50 percent of farmer household with debts are insolvent, according to a joint report released by the Southwestern University of Finance and Economics and Agricultural Bank of China Limited on Sunday.” 5

The average pay per hour worked of factory workers in China is about 15 YUAN per hour(which is nearly 3 dollars), and some skilled workers could get 25 YUAN per hour(which is about 4 dollars). Most of Chinese workers make more money than Chinese farmers because Chinese workers relatively have less debt than farmers, but the high housing prices and low government subsidies still make them hard to live.

LINK:
1. http://www.china.org.cn/english/features/Q&A/161626.htm
2. http://www.sinolatincapital.com/Upload/2011121143410.pdf
3. http://www.global-rates.com/economic-indicators/inflation/consumer-prices/cpi/china.aspx
4. http://www.economicshelp.org/macroeconomics/inflation/causes-inflation/
5. http://www.aastocks.com/en/stocks/analysis/china-hot-topic-content.aspx?id=200000336250&type=16&catg=1

 

Copyright,2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.