It's back to work tonight. I'm doing a load of laundry before I head off to bed for a few hours of sleep. I should be doing some cleaning on the house, but I probably won't. I swept the kitchen, emptied the trash, started the load of laundry... I think cleaning the cat box will be the final official cleaning act of the day.

When I bought cat litter a few weeks back, I noticed that the bag that it was packaged in was some sort of woven-looking plastic type material. Almost like what the poly tarpaulins are made from. I took a look in the pet food and supplies asiles the other morning when I was at the Wal-Mart. Hey, Wally's is pretty empty at 5am on a Sunday, so there's room to move and time to peruse. I noticed that several brands of dog food and cat litters are being packaged in this type of plastic. Eeeek!!!

You know, I'm far from a treehugger, but this development is seriously not good! I guess they want some type of non-decomposing material to keep all of those disposable diapers company in the landfills for the next several thousand years. These plastic bags have seriously heightened my interest in being a good steward of the planet. I find myself looking for more and more things and ways to recycle and reuse.

Recycling isn't easy here in Cowlumbus. We don't have a recycling program in place. It's 2007 in a city with a metropolitan area population of close to 1.2 million people, and we don't have a recycling program. I tell that to friends from elsewhere in the country, and they are appalled. And, they should be.

Several years ago, rather than implement a recycling program, Cowlumbus decided to opt for building a trash burning power plant. It was shut down 2 or 3 years ago due to toxic emissions. So, now we have more trash and no electricity from this waste of tax payer money and still no recycling plan. The mayor has vowed that he will have one in place by 2009. Or was that 2011? Either way, you have to love it. Yes, that was meant as a sarcastic statement.

On my job, the amount of wasted paper that is just thrown into the trash dumpsters is incredible. I've been looking at doing something with papier mache, handmade papers, or a couple of other experiments that I'm thinking of. Plastic bottles and containers still present a quandry, but I've been mulling around a couple of different ideas.

I've been saving some different eco-type sites to my del.icio.us page the last couple of weeks. You can find me there under Karma_Dogma.

It isn't about being reactionary in response to alarming instances of wastefulness and environmental irresponsibility, it's about being proactive in order to make a difference in the situation.

Angst, Art, and Anarchy

I had originally envisioned this post going to my art blog, but after getting the play-by-play of the season finale (Yes, Virginia, there is a God, and we have been granted a respite.) of Ah-mur-kan Idle, this post definitely needed to find its way to my "angst blog." Definitely.

If you don't know about Plazm, you should.

Check it out. http://plazm.com/

It's going to get a permalink too, I'm thinking...

I do not watch television for a reason. And, as I was getting the scoop on that wretched show referenced above, I am thankful to a merciful God that I do not waste precious and finite fossil fuel resources on television viewing.

At this point, I am tempted to find myself a little villa in Sicily where television and internet access are rare, drink some local wine, and work on my tan. That or go expatriate myself in Los Angeles.

The recount of the TV show has made me feel decidedly unclean. I feel I must watch my illicitly obtained copy of "Broken" in order to restore my sensibilities.

The following is from the inaugural issue of Plazm Magazine.

Declaration of Scene Dependence

Originally published in Plazm #1, page #1, circa 1991

When in the course of the endless stream of eclectic weekend soirees, and grunge rock networking frenzies, it becomes necessary to dissolve the socio politico bands which have connected what we define as scene with what those of other cities, you know the ones, have haphazardly defined as scenes, but in doing so placed constraints on their creativity and manners of self-expression (usually motivated by the hint of the big carrot), and to assume, among the powers of the Earth, the separate and equal stations to which the laws of social interaction, party hopping, and Walt Curtis, entitle them.

We hold these truths to be self evident, that all nihilistic-hippy-entrepreneurial-ararcho-disaffected-forlorn youth spent listening to the fringe of industrial "Baudelaire" music-Kerowackian-just a day job-tartaric espresso drinkers- 3 a.m. the Smiths are playing-your lover's left-it's all too real-sink back into the comfort of sporty mixed drink-mind blasting-too many drug taking-potential rock star-first persons to make millions from Beat Poetry-conspiracy understanders-where does Mondo 2000 get all that money, anyway-Williamette Week thirty second flippers-glorious new age harbingers are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator(s) ((Warhol, Burroughs, and some unheard of French philosopher who has been tapping your dreams, and will soon publish your stream of consciousness to rave reviews)) with certain inalienable rights; life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness (and maybe a good taco, every once in a while).

That the oppression of contemporary mass manipulation has reached such a level as to demand the actions we are taking. Through the realization that this is the moment, and that its integrity is defined by our acceptance of each other, and not by a section in Pulse, a blurb in Spin. That through our endeavors to promote harmonious, well lit, social interaction we will be the catalyst for true global change. The community should be bonded by the common goals of preserving "the ultimate party," and the freedoms that enhance and enable, even bands without talent, to thrive and prosper. The processes of democracy have been assailed long enough, and it is imperative that we, as citizens of the United States, commit every aspect of our lives to assuming the means of production of our own scene, and all the catering, decoration, and guest list responsibilities that are our God given rights. Thus, on this day July, Seventh, Nineteen Hundred and Ninety One, the good citizens of Portland do hereby declare their Scenedependence, and establish the structures of self-government, and open bars, necessary for the operation of a free society.

How forward-sighted was that?

Well, given the lame-assed status quo of 2007, at any rate.

As one who has always done the scene but wasn't necessarily into being seen, I can seriously appreciate the spirit with which that piece was inspired.

Popular culture is the enemy of thought, freedom, and expression.

There have always been many pretentions and poseurs and pseudo-angst as suitable sideshow fodder to any scene.... Oh, I really don't want to go there now, do I. Perhaps another time.

Adobe Magazine has been reborn in an online format. I mention this due to its current-issue connection with Plazm. (You'll just have to find out for yourself). Also because it is a worthwhile publication, and I am glad to see the phoenix rise from the ashes.

I'm off to go a-knitting now. Rest assured, this isn't your grandma's idea of knitting....

Back to Life, Back to Reality

I go back to work tomorrow. I probably could use some more time off, but that just isn't an option right now. I really don't want to go into what's behind all of the reasons why it isn't an option because the political maneuverings and interpretations of policies, regardless of how clearly and directly they are stated, make me more depressed and cynical.

It didn't hit me until yesterday of exactly how drained and exhausted and depressed I am after all that has gone on in the last 2 1/2 weeks. Yesterday, I felt slammed by reality.

My dad's death still doesn't seem reality yet. But, the emotional and physical toll became plainly clear yesterday afternoon. No particular event triggered the realization. I sat down with a cup of coffee and a smoke yesterday afternoon, and it was there.

I should make a call to my doctor's office, I suppose.

It's about 10:15pm, and I would like to be getting ready to head to bed. As I'm going to be up all night the next two nights at work, I need to get back on my "night shift sleep routine." Hopefully, I can last until at least 3am tonight! It would be very helpful for the coming couple of days.

I have to pick up my check tomorrow. I will probably end up babysitting tomorrow. Gabe has been especially on this week. Because of the behaviors, I kept him today while his brother went to the sitters. If he keeps it up, he or we may not make it until next Wednesday when we get the results of his behavioral eval.

I have my coffee. It's time to relax. I think I may play some games online and then start on a winter sweater. I have two new ones completed for summer. I HAVE accomplished something in the last 2 1/2 weeks, though looking at my house, you wouldn't know it! LOL

May post more stuff later. The night is still young!

It has been a very long couple of weeks.

My dad's funeral was yesterday.

Life goes on.

I will give my family credit for instilling that perspective of perseverence. I suppose I should give the Marine Corps credit for reinforcing it.

Going home to the tiny, rural farm community where I grew up wasn't hard. Not much has changed there in the 28 years that I've been away. Some of the faces are different in the familiar places, but not much else has changed. The town is now down to two stoplights. The third one, a block from the school, at the intersection of where the ice cream shop sits, has been changed to a four-way stop with a flashing light.

Not much has changed, other than once-familiar faces having been aged nearly three decades.