J. L. Morin's City Sidewalks

"Of course this year there were no coconuts because there was a war on."-- Graham Greene

If this young and presumably promising novelist is still following me, (or even if she isn't though I would understand on both counts) what cannot be recaptured are the episodes of marvel and wonder. Even in delicately phrased special needs schools there were Christmas pageants, and while no vocal talent beheld the child in leg irons, whose creative rivulets were not geared toward pantomime, like. a nine year old oxen tilling diligently she Knew All The Words, and where the other young deformed personages stumbled, spastic, the nascent blockhead, shouldered on. Mother, father watching, the child determinedly loved this particular carol. The affection carried and the teachers ran up afterward grateful. "You saved the entire show." (I believe I was slated for transfer to Normal School as the evening concluded.)

Marvel, wonder, transcendence. City sidewalks busy sidewalks dressed in holiday style, nothing more than an urbane variation, the lack of ubiquity human nature invests in the solstice. Wide eyed nieces and nephews cannot restore it, triumph the nihilism. Destination Media is just another labor in the censored fracking of my sister Stephanie's marriage, her father absent against her Insistence that he be a grandfather to his only grandchildren. She hates Louise, archetypal stepmother, more than I, the mechanism for transference. We'd probably both like to murder our father. I do not go, as how am I to get in the house these days, warrior colon the one constant, the carryover skid marks of fecal stains on the leg brace leather, desperately trying to avoid mother haunting memory, aggregates suck.

Arianna's Umbrella

The problem of Syria is analogous to the bilateral argument between atheists and theists. If the major powers do nothing, we face the prospect of a regional military conflict that will only grow in size and scope, and might threaten Israel. If the major powers act, or take sides in a proxy conflict, then we may wind up with the same playbook, and break the bank in the process. The use of chemical agents to exterminate life is an engagement of excessive torment on living bodies. Physical torture is one thing, but poisons are another, an overwrought condensed agony living things should not have to experience from human manufacture. Our planet is deadly enough on its own, and more to the point, Assad who trained to be an ophthalmologist, thinks he can get through this by utilizing Mithridatic tactics, and this not against an external enemy. Why does the Middle East remain in the mindset of eighth century jurisprudence?

On that question I submit greetings to Ms. Morin, who replaces Amy, who understandably had enough of my lack of beatitudes. Happiness is difficult to come by given one set of experiences over another, aside from my relief mechanisms in anarchy, but I have my own honor code. What I'd convey to JL Morin on far lighter terms than my above paragraph, is that I would be happy to engage in inglorious grunt work for the Huffington Post, if I understood how an aggregate works, which I only partially grasp. Fact checking is fine, and the like, since it is in the field I wish to remain with my lingering viability. We shall see.

I am risk adverse to this extent: If I snowball myself into full time work in another location and fail due to the fact that I am aging, I cannot just chuck it up to a loss and then scurry back to Philadelphia's public housing system. I have to be sure an employer can truly accommodate my limited functionality. I am still smart, to a varying degree, but need quadriplegic supports better than those received in the past, and negotiating this isn't easy. I have covered breaking news stories, and it is high octane, but obviously, going to Damascus would be absurd. 

Reluctantly, I remain against a surgical intervention. What would it solve?