"Get involved," but if you don't agree with independent living center paradigms you'll have to sue me-- Thomas Earle
If anyone is undecided about Stewart's range, count spastic in for doubt, as I am not entirely certain what range signifies, as one could reasonably ask why Jean Luc Picard couldn't have been British, with French relations, My favorite episode of Next Generation is Family, and I'm apparently not the only viewer who felt its strength, for it is in part a teleplay about handling disappointed expectations, adversity, violation, learning to live with it, even if sometimes we cannot, which is the lesson of Black Snake Moan, embedded in Ricci and Timberlake's characters. "Family," resolves itself, since Stewart still cared about his job, but Picard's depth of feeling is saved for the first Borg movie. As dor Stewart's diabolical tyrants, crippled or not, they remain one dimensional. For poignancy, it is his small ensemble part in Lady Jane Grey, where just for a moment, he displays the magnanimity of the doomed. Is Stewart Macbeth?
The Thane is the most haunting, of all the tragedies, Macbeth seems the most psychologically corroded by overreach, akin to yours truly and the ambulatory world, but I just don't see Stewart so tortured by culpability. I concede I don't know if the play available to view.
Tom Earle is an unlikely adversary, the type of boy-man women coddle with food and St. Christopher medals. He is perfectly happy playing tag with his walking stick with baby fat toddlers. I'll admit I am harassing his voice mail, daily. I've said what the fuck forcefully and recounted numerous follies by his staff, the people who work at these places are inept to the point that my own skills have corroded in psychic pain. Brian Coleman was Earle's second to last housing counselor before the center lost it's budget, and in the world of the way things work in Black Cities USA, my rental manager Trudy Richardson followed brother Coleman of Maryland around, never completed any repairs. The same Coleman who said "Liberty can help with the move," during the renovations, and then told me, the erstwhile former consultant, "Liberty doesn't offer that service." My assigned coordinator never opened her fucking mouth, and nothing ever changes with this paradigm.
He is gone, but I hate the little dodo with a vengeance, injured as badly as I was that year, but as ugly dykes are wont to say, these centers are all the disabled have. When we're ousted, even if homily but not persuadable to lesbianism,what then?
Showing posts with label macbeth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label macbeth. Show all posts
Saturday, August 29, 2015
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Auto Struct Alpha
"I wasn't rude enough to let them know what I was thinking." -- Patrick Stoner, passionate Sherman detractor
Careful attention was paid. How Stewart's voice rose across the table from the intrepid interviewer whose mannerisms and verbal stilettos where formed in the states of American feudalism, but who knew when to hold back with the classically trained presence before him. "Why did he do it?" Patrick's voice rose an octave, not losing control but invested, trying to sort out the enigmatic nature of Shakespeare's darkest protagonist. Macbeth is less John F Kennedy getting his magisterial head blown off like a ripe melon, more Eliot Spitzer using his prosecutorial techniques to rationalize the perfect legitimacy of his needs to exhort power through ejaculation. Any literary mind can relate to Patrick's outcry. Why in the name of god does a good lieutenant destroy the sanctity of his place of honor in the realm and over reach, triggering an apocalyptic bloodbath? Beneath this is the unspoken frustration in the mind of a man who knows no matter how well trained he is, his fame rests on his inexplicable role as a Frenchman with an English accent in a children's science fiction series that turns grown men and women into loons, hence his modulated dialectical mentorship and rivalry with Ian Holm, who can play a synthetic android and escape being fenced in by a figure like Jean Luc Picard.
Stewart owes a great deal to Rick Berman's send up of European finesse, despite the entrapment, but the hints of frustration remain for public distillation. In his minor roles of ruthless villainy, one could envision Stewart actually inhabiting the Union's terrorist general, the one who raped the Shenandoah Valley. William T Sherman's destruction of the South was necessary. His mind was brilliant, critical, calculating, compartmentalizing native tribesmen into nuisance thugs. His brutality paved the way for this modern world where identity is paramount and genocidal in the same breath, and true value is in the efficiency profit margin.
We can't all be matinee icons.
Careful attention was paid. How Stewart's voice rose across the table from the intrepid interviewer whose mannerisms and verbal stilettos where formed in the states of American feudalism, but who knew when to hold back with the classically trained presence before him. "Why did he do it?" Patrick's voice rose an octave, not losing control but invested, trying to sort out the enigmatic nature of Shakespeare's darkest protagonist. Macbeth is less John F Kennedy getting his magisterial head blown off like a ripe melon, more Eliot Spitzer using his prosecutorial techniques to rationalize the perfect legitimacy of his needs to exhort power through ejaculation. Any literary mind can relate to Patrick's outcry. Why in the name of god does a good lieutenant destroy the sanctity of his place of honor in the realm and over reach, triggering an apocalyptic bloodbath? Beneath this is the unspoken frustration in the mind of a man who knows no matter how well trained he is, his fame rests on his inexplicable role as a Frenchman with an English accent in a children's science fiction series that turns grown men and women into loons, hence his modulated dialectical mentorship and rivalry with Ian Holm, who can play a synthetic android and escape being fenced in by a figure like Jean Luc Picard.
Stewart owes a great deal to Rick Berman's send up of European finesse, despite the entrapment, but the hints of frustration remain for public distillation. In his minor roles of ruthless villainy, one could envision Stewart actually inhabiting the Union's terrorist general, the one who raped the Shenandoah Valley. William T Sherman's destruction of the South was necessary. His mind was brilliant, critical, calculating, compartmentalizing native tribesmen into nuisance thugs. His brutality paved the way for this modern world where identity is paramount and genocidal in the same breath, and true value is in the efficiency profit margin.
We can't all be matinee icons.
Friday, January 25, 2013
The Mossad Foul is Fair
My attitude toward the state of Israel has invariably shifted over the years, from that of unquestioned idealism to serious doubts about American foreign policy being tethered to Ashkenazi self-righteousness, and today, merely colored by cynicism, I respect the ruthlessness of the Mossad, but much like the Guardian staff, question the morality of that ruthlessness. Though I am powerless to be ruthless, my own morality has suffered from its intractable growth, which justice would staunch, an abstract idea that seems unlikely at this point, though the question of a diabolical disabled evil preoccupies whatever remains of my creative talent, as an ethical, technical problem. Whatever Linda's virtue, she undermines it by unnecessary humiliation, and her employer refuses to deal with it by utilizing an appropriate discipline, which in this case, is forcing her resignation. Linda repeatedly gets "herself into trouble." Her words, disrepecting her colleagues, turning on, and I cite, on the basis of facts I have in evidence:
1. blind subordinates, otherwise qualified
2. minority subordinates, who successfully sued under her administration
3. quadriplegic subordinates like myself, too incapacitated to meet EEOC deadlines
4. paraplegics in the same situation
If she was a corporate executive, do you think her tenure would be so long lived? Her former boss, Fern Markowitz, is as much a bigot as some feel Martin Peretz to be, except that Fern gets a free pass, as a Jewish lesbian, and I don't, because I troll in dark crevices, chewing grubs, but make no mistake, Fern was never about equality. She needed to control wheelchair users like myself, and that is not respect, with the exception of the symbolic tokenism Cassie James Holdsworth emanates. That is untouchable in Liberty's world, but for when I pierced it in anger. Fern took the problem Linda created and compounded it.
"I need to make a living Fern."
"Welllll," she trilled, like that, gesturing her hand at me, akin to a trainer with a rebellious circus animal, one that did not comply, instead of offering me a respectful discussion. Liberty's entire staff operates under this pathology of prevarication, which lesbians exude with peculiar talent, in Fern's case probably generational, and necessary, to evade the animosity Shakespeare reserved for supernatural androgyny, and this is the seed of my villainy, which, depositing in my rare disabled characters, is problematic, for I am taking a conceit, coupled with the real pain of my terribly cruel ouster, which Cassie acknowledged when she team tagged me on the grant proposal I was not going to do for their evil, and disservicing disability empowerment by letting this evil take its course in my work. Fern herself was ousted by a transvestite and his unstable and occasionally vicious partner, so it would be ironic, if, in truly unleashing my view, I wind up with a best seller, which is why I study intelligence. The price of vengeance, however, is an ancient lex talionis in the time warp of a modern age.
It is not Fern I want to eliminate, as Fern is punishment enough for her own reality, but the cruelty of the paradigm that allows her and her successors to engage in nearly untrammeled corruption, it has to go. Nursing homes are not an apologia for federally protected disability center ineffability.
1. blind subordinates, otherwise qualified
2. minority subordinates, who successfully sued under her administration
3. quadriplegic subordinates like myself, too incapacitated to meet EEOC deadlines
4. paraplegics in the same situation
If she was a corporate executive, do you think her tenure would be so long lived? Her former boss, Fern Markowitz, is as much a bigot as some feel Martin Peretz to be, except that Fern gets a free pass, as a Jewish lesbian, and I don't, because I troll in dark crevices, chewing grubs, but make no mistake, Fern was never about equality. She needed to control wheelchair users like myself, and that is not respect, with the exception of the symbolic tokenism Cassie James Holdsworth emanates. That is untouchable in Liberty's world, but for when I pierced it in anger. Fern took the problem Linda created and compounded it.
"I need to make a living Fern."
"Welllll," she trilled, like that, gesturing her hand at me, akin to a trainer with a rebellious circus animal, one that did not comply, instead of offering me a respectful discussion. Liberty's entire staff operates under this pathology of prevarication, which lesbians exude with peculiar talent, in Fern's case probably generational, and necessary, to evade the animosity Shakespeare reserved for supernatural androgyny, and this is the seed of my villainy, which, depositing in my rare disabled characters, is problematic, for I am taking a conceit, coupled with the real pain of my terribly cruel ouster, which Cassie acknowledged when she team tagged me on the grant proposal I was not going to do for their evil, and disservicing disability empowerment by letting this evil take its course in my work. Fern herself was ousted by a transvestite and his unstable and occasionally vicious partner, so it would be ironic, if, in truly unleashing my view, I wind up with a best seller, which is why I study intelligence. The price of vengeance, however, is an ancient lex talionis in the time warp of a modern age.
It is not Fern I want to eliminate, as Fern is punishment enough for her own reality, but the cruelty of the paradigm that allows her and her successors to engage in nearly untrammeled corruption, it has to go. Nursing homes are not an apologia for federally protected disability center ineffability.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Banquo's Ghost
There are politics in every situation, I realize that, despite my psychological injuries, and I am not quite positive I am still working for the publication I just failed. Nasty nasty little voice in my head, but the editor has no real reason to keep me, so I am pretending, and will give myself the week, though it seems to be melding into a loss. When I look at LiveJournal's most popular entries category, I am frustrated. I could not even pick a good nascent service provider, and for the moment I am stuck because of my limited and fearful understanding of computer science. I know when it serves me not to post too much detail, but I too am trying to read the tea leaves with my temporary editor, and I am here, and not there because a mind that is a half century old works a little differently. I cannot work as fast as I used to, and a post, however indulged, is at least a jump start. I am a night owl, also something of a disadvantage to a freelancer, depending on the topic, and I may have to go buy cigarettes for the sake of the work itself. My stash of fakes, if it gets here intact, will not be in until Thursday, Friday, at the latest, because I am always running behind. I open my draft, and it is not really so bad.
*
Linda Dezenski's real crime against me centers on her willingness to sacrifice me to employees less able, like Jimmi. As a manager, Linda made many enemies before me, and I have received my education on that score, but I defended her, very loyal for seven or eight years, and what I get in return is to be chewed up and spit out like a ball of pulp fiber. I thought she recognized my value, and respected it, and this is the touchstone where my pain resides. I recognized what I thought was her quality as a leader, and I did push her to take more chances, be more visible by accepting the position with the national council, just as Liberty pushed her later, shaping her as a local spokeswoman who could actually handle the pressure of appearing on a program like Radio Times.
The full sequence of what she did to me is what causes those hard to swallow postal episodes that surface as an event in this country, so much shattered glass, like the blood fest in Macbeth; bloodshed and power vacuums lead to psychosis, resolved in Shakespeare's methodology by a just application of ruthlessness, in oposition to the inbalance of clinging, at all costs, to an authority you do not have the faintest idea how to use.
I had a bit of breakfast, and I am pausing now for more caffeine, almost ready to go, debating a more careful shift to the shower, it is very blustery, very cold, and maybe the uneven weather is why fluffball caught a stomach ailment. Vinnie swat his brother, as if to say, "You should not upset mommy!"
All is well now among our most anthropomorphized carnivore companions. Cats beat dogs in this category, and if you think about it, the evidence is obvious. Batman never had a nemesis dubbed Rovergirl.
*
I am pondering the issue, however, of how cheap it is for me to malign bad editors and scholastically limited writers like Josie, or Jimmi-- but Shrode is a lightweight, so let's focus on the dyke, and her more valid advocacy position. Contention: Her betrayal of me rather undermines what she stands for, and I resent it despite the effort both she and partner Ginny took to meet me at the Asian restaurant I could not afford, and was too mundane, too close, to my building. This is what I cannot explain to cyber contacts like Manny, that I have so few opportunities for fresh pursuit.
It was the same that day with two lesbians, a cripple, and a whippet thin and painted foster adolescent from Bangladesh. It makes me sick to my stomach, literally, to dwell on what I am willing to subject myself to, in a series of ever diminishing returns. Even a superb cinematic narrative like The Visitor cannot sway me that our contemporary multi-cultural deluge is the brighter future we should embrace. Josie has forever lost my respect, but if she wanted to keep it, and the price it took her to "come out as a Christian gimp" she should not have lashed out at Cecil. If I had behaved like that with Ginny, it would have never been forgiven.
*
Linda Dezenski's real crime against me centers on her willingness to sacrifice me to employees less able, like Jimmi. As a manager, Linda made many enemies before me, and I have received my education on that score, but I defended her, very loyal for seven or eight years, and what I get in return is to be chewed up and spit out like a ball of pulp fiber. I thought she recognized my value, and respected it, and this is the touchstone where my pain resides. I recognized what I thought was her quality as a leader, and I did push her to take more chances, be more visible by accepting the position with the national council, just as Liberty pushed her later, shaping her as a local spokeswoman who could actually handle the pressure of appearing on a program like Radio Times.
The full sequence of what she did to me is what causes those hard to swallow postal episodes that surface as an event in this country, so much shattered glass, like the blood fest in Macbeth; bloodshed and power vacuums lead to psychosis, resolved in Shakespeare's methodology by a just application of ruthlessness, in oposition to the inbalance of clinging, at all costs, to an authority you do not have the faintest idea how to use.
I had a bit of breakfast, and I am pausing now for more caffeine, almost ready to go, debating a more careful shift to the shower, it is very blustery, very cold, and maybe the uneven weather is why fluffball caught a stomach ailment. Vinnie swat his brother, as if to say, "You should not upset mommy!"
All is well now among our most anthropomorphized carnivore companions. Cats beat dogs in this category, and if you think about it, the evidence is obvious. Batman never had a nemesis dubbed Rovergirl.
*
I am pondering the issue, however, of how cheap it is for me to malign bad editors and scholastically limited writers like Josie, or Jimmi-- but Shrode is a lightweight, so let's focus on the dyke, and her more valid advocacy position. Contention: Her betrayal of me rather undermines what she stands for, and I resent it despite the effort both she and partner Ginny took to meet me at the Asian restaurant I could not afford, and was too mundane, too close, to my building. This is what I cannot explain to cyber contacts like Manny, that I have so few opportunities for fresh pursuit.
It was the same that day with two lesbians, a cripple, and a whippet thin and painted foster adolescent from Bangladesh. It makes me sick to my stomach, literally, to dwell on what I am willing to subject myself to, in a series of ever diminishing returns. Even a superb cinematic narrative like The Visitor cannot sway me that our contemporary multi-cultural deluge is the brighter future we should embrace. Josie has forever lost my respect, but if she wanted to keep it, and the price it took her to "come out as a Christian gimp" she should not have lashed out at Cecil. If I had behaved like that with Ginny, it would have never been forgiven.
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