Kane Lesser's Blog, page 3
June 9, 2019
May 29, 2019
A World Entirely TOO Censored
If you enjoy writing genre fiction or blog posts that could unsettle readers, you could potentially be in violation of laws in some states that prohibit the writing of “disturbing material.”
A high school kid in Oklahoma found this out when he wrote a not-very-wise short story on his school computer that got him into hot water.
https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/us/this-teen%E2s-racist-prom-invite-was-a-bad-idea-but-a-free-speech-expert-says-it%E2s-his-right/ar-AAwiuj5?li=BBnb7Kz
The Sage Witch
The definition of sage:
sage2
sāj/
noun
noun: sage; plural noun: sages
1.
a profoundly wise man, especially one who features in ancient history or legend.
adjective
adjective: sage
1.
having, showing, or indicating profound wisdom.
“they nodded in agreement with these sage remarks”
With synonyms:
wise, learned, clever, intelligent, having/showing great knowledge, knowledgeable, sensible, intellectual, scholarly, sagacious, erudite.
discerning, judicious, canny, penetrating, perceptive, acute, astute, shrewd, prudent,
thoughtful, insightful, percipient, perspicacious, philosophical, profound, deep.
—————————————-
“Clairvoyant” isn’t a word I would select, for that which is perceive is not a feeling or a sense that stems from reading tea leaves, holding runes, or examining palms.
Mine came with the package. It’s an instinct.
The word I’ve always used is “premonition”.
There are some that would call it a “sixth sense”; that which reaches far beyond touch, sight, hearing, tasting, and smelling. This state of being is intangible, impossible to explain, cannot be learned or shared, and is virtually impossible to explain.
The first instance in my life I can recall being aware of my ability to “feel” something coming, my gift for perceiving an event or a person, was when I was eight years old…or there ’bouts.
I went to bed, fell asleep, and had a dream about an elderly relative dying. I saw them lying in the casket as though I was wide awake. The next morning, I awoke to instructions to pack.
Because we had to travel to a funeral.
I’m not entirely sure what I thought about that at such a young age, but with the burden of hindsight, it’s apparent that I was born with it. And it will leave this world with me.
I’ve always been aware of something about me that I couldn’t quite encapsulate, and certainly under no circumstances to anyone else. Hell, even now as a grown adult, I couldn’t begin to put this all into discernible thoughts…at least not without someone locking me up in my own straight jacket or conducting cruel and invasive experiments on me.
On occasion, I chalk up this heightened sense of awareness – of people, places, and intuition – to the constant watch I commanded as a single mother very early in my life. Raising a child on my own required a constant and astute vigilance of everything and everyone that occupied my space.
At other times, I am convinced that this state of being is inherited, having witnessed it in older and wiser relatives that I spent time with when I was young. Even then, their presence was like an electricity that alerted me to something, though I was never able to pinpoint what was that “something”.
This sage capability seems to be woven into each and every aspect of my existence from selecting items in a grocery store to an impulse that I can physically receive from simply shaking another’s hand.
I know. I can tell. I can predict…which direction a relationship will take, what ultimate conclusion will come to people’s actions, and whether I can sustain long or short stints in a public place.
It is weird – it’s like having a crystal ball in front of me, one to look into to predict a current or very-near place or result. But the picture is fuzzy and on rare occasion, can trigger a skewed perception…at least on the face of it.
That direction I may have initially anticipated as an instruction turns out to be indeed a message, but only one that should have been heeded as a warning to run in the opposite direction.
So call it what you will – the heebie jeebies, warm fuzzies, extrasensory perception, or just plain ol’ awareness. It always ends up with me lamenting the exact same thought:
“Dammit, I hate being right all the time.”
April 30, 2018
Home
Recently, I have heard a great many people talk about home.
Austin, Texas as a home. A location for loved ones as a home. A general community as a home.
I think long and hard about what I perceive “home” to be.
It really is a broadly-general term.
Home can be a place in your head, a physical location, a concept of belonging. There is a very traditional view of a home being a house where a newly-married couple settles in and raises their family.
Their children grow, become educated, leave to begin their own families; and retirement and golden years set in in comfort. Very idyllic and Norman Rockwell-esque.
A home is a location where friends and families gather for holidays and birthdays and celebrations and deaths. And coffee on a Monday afternoon.
They are gathering places for emotions and arguments and – God, willing – harmony and foundation.
Home.
And as I ponder and think, I come to the conclusion that I don’t understand what this term means. It is as familiar to me as if I comprehended what living on the moon would be like.
A home should be happy; welcoming and the home base of all that is familiar and warm.
Right?
What does that mean?
I grew up in a “home” that provided beating and screaming. I moved to a “home” and raised my son in the neighborhood of drug dealers and prostitutes.
Less than 8 months ago, I packed up everything I owned and moved thousands of miles from everything I’d ever associated with familiarity.
And I’m still me. I don’t feel any different. I have enjoyed the adventure and I am blessed for having been able to experience a new world, new people, and a new culture. I’ll always be the same me, but I had nothing and no one to leave behind.
I had no ties that some consider a “home”. I have nothing – I miss nothing. There are no loose ends to tie.
My life has consisted of a beating heart that is singularly keeping time.
It’s only mine.
I fear that my entire and overall perception – and that of the world in general – of “home” is based upon the bullshit that people in society are fed and naturally go along with: that there is one mommy, one daddy, and they all live happily ever after.
It’s not even remotely all that black and white.
I raised my son in our home as a single mother and he reached the age of consent over a decade ago.
My home then became an empty nest.
Dysfunction is far too often mistaken for a side effect or a natural, residual product of the nuclear family.
And people fall for this bullshit.
Why?
“Home” is not about a physical structure that you can load up with lots of expensive material items that you extend your credit to buy, only to impress the neighbors.
That’s a house.
A “home” is not a source of safety, comfort, or satisfaction if it is the primary contributor of angst, guilt, or physical insecurity…no matter who happens to be waiting at the door or sleeping beside you.
I had previously given all of this little thought, having never really experienced a “home”.
I make my bed where I lay my head. My education and enjoyment and cultural stature have been from roaming the world and hiking ruins…not sitting in the middle of four walls.
Maybe I’m just the type of person that doesn’t need a traditional home. My places in the world have served me greatly in a sleeping blanket under the stars at the Sturgis Bike Rally in South Dakota.
I have slept in a tent along the fence line of a field right next to cows on Herm Island in the English Channel.
I have a roof over my head, sustenance for my belly, and music in my ears.
What could a “home” possibly offer me?
April 24, 2018
Top Ten: The Bitch Switches
Sometimes referred to as hot buttons, bugaboos, idiosyncrasies…whatever terminology you prefer, they all point to the same instances:
Those activities, comments, or treatment with which we have real problems.
These occurrences can vary greatly from person to person or day to day experiences. We all have our reasons and our pain points for being lit up by another’s actions or inaction.
Mine are undeniably bitch switches. There’s just no getting around that. Having put up with, experienced, endured, and suffered stupidity and cruelty my entire life; I have reached a point of zero tolerance to these.
I simply do not have the emotional strength to even fight them anymore. My strength is the one and only element of my being that I have keeping me afloat.
“One must put up barriers to keep oneself intact”.
And though my seemingly harsh attitude and demeanor keep me largely isolated, I hold out consistent and perhaps delusional hope that something or someone in this world has the capability of penetrating that barrier.
It is a distinct possibility, one that is impossible to explain.
The list below – in large part – you’ll note reflects human behavior, that which is rampant and sadly normal to our society. Apathy and idiocy contribute to the zombie behavior of most humans, with basic kindness and decency having seemingly been completely dissolved.
The most disappointing factor is that – none of this is rocket science. None requires much thought or effort in the least. And too often that which sets us apart from any other mammals on the planet is never acknowledged or recognized until it is long gone.
10. Making demands of me – I appreciate courtesy. This in no way requires patronizing, demeaning, or pacifying behavior – all of which do nothing but flip another bitch switch. Ask me nicely and I’ll give my soul to hand you the universe. Bark orders at me, and you’ll receive nothing from me ever again.
9. Take something of mine without my permission or knowledge. This is stealing. Plain and simple. It’s cowardly. I’m a very generous person. If you ask me for something and I am able to provide it, I will move heaven and earth to do so. Don’t take advantage of that.
8. Compare me to others. I think this one speaks for itself. I am unlike anyone else in the world. Each of us is. Pointing out how someone trumps me in looks, skills, intelligence, or company is prime indication that you have absolutely no idea whom you’re speaking to. You appreciate me as I am – lumps and all – or stay out of my path.
7. Blaming or accusing me for or of something I did not do. Get your facts clear, concise, straight, absolutely detailed before you come at me with confrontation or accusations. Being semi-informed with all guns blazing belittles us both…and will give me the opportunity to bury you with the truth. Don’t do this.
6. Talking about me being my back. Dumb. Juvenile. Pointless. Grow up. If you don’t have the guts to say it directly to me, you’re ultimately making yourself look like the fool by saying it to someone else. Integrity is reflected in that which you do when no one else is watching or listening – and even more so if someone is.
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5. Berate Me – I’m not perfect. Far from. Being patted on the head and praised for every little thing has never been my MO. However, criticizing incessantly over every little thing will send me packing in a big hurry. There is a happy balance – a yin and a yang.
4. Sarcasm – I love being sarcastic and a biting wit is a definite indicator of a keen and quick mind. Much like swearing, sarcasm used as a weapon during an argument or disagreement can slice right through to the bone and leave wounds that are unlikely to heal. I know whereof I speak, which is why when I find myself caught on a battlefield of considerable conflict, I simply walk away. It is best for all involved. Trust me on this one.
3. Swearing. There’s a time and place for everything, and obscenities certainly serve their purpose in conversation. But if you’re mad at me or if you’re a complete stranger, slinging derogatory language at me is a sure-fire way of getting your ass handed to you. It nearly got me kicked off a flight coming into the States from Paris. Another story for another time…
2. Ignore Me. There have been scientific studies released that point to proof that the emotional impact and psychological damage of being ignored by someone is just as bad, if not worse, than being physically abused. I’d rather have you just sock me in the jaw and have done with it. Inexcusable, considering that we live in a world where the primary focus of research and technology consuming the past century has been in connecting people across the globe, and at the speed of light. Lazy, cruel.
1. Lie to Me. About anything. Doesn’t matter. Any statement even remotely askew or vaguely honest will be the last words spoken to me. I can think of little more crueler, disrespectful, and lacking complete integrity. Worst of all, it insults my intelligence.
[image error]
Additional bitch switches that will inevitably irk or incite me are not thanking me for something, asking me why I’m single (please refer to 1 through 10 above), or touching my cars. Those, however, are lesser (ha) infractions in the scope of things.
Still very easily chalked up to stupidity or insensitivity, nonetheless.
There is one final one that far, far exceeds the scope of this list:
Under no circumstances underestimate me _-my ability to move the earth or crack it in two.
Some of the greatest rules in the world to live by, yet those in which so very few find value or purpose:
If it doesn’t involve you, keep your mouth shut and mind your own damned business.
If it doesn’t belong to you, keep your hands off.
If it doesn’t hurt you, don’t scream in pain.
When in doubt, do.
At every opportunity, put yourself in the other person’s shoes to see how you may feel before you act.
In speaking, do so only if:
It’s true.
It’s kind.
It’s necessary.
Or face the wrath of the flipped bitch switch…
April 22, 2018
I Watch the Stars
They fascinate me. They always have.
They are static. They are everywhere. They are infinite. They are mysterious.
Those are elements of my endless dreaming.
Holding a title of aristocracy that is mine for life (and that which I have rightfully earned), I marvel at the constellation named after the Greek Princess Cassiopeia, the Queen of Ethiopia.
Perhaps it is because she and I are to have seemingly possessed similar traits – arrogance and vanity.
They proved to be her downfall. Perhaps they will prove to be mine.
However, I don’t view myself as arrogant, even though I am a Leo. I always justify my erudition as such: “If it is true, it is not bragging”.
I look upon the Big Dipper, always predominant in the northern sky. Long ago when I live in Europe, I begged for the formation to sweep down and scoop me up. I prayed that it would transport me beautifully to somewhere out of the misery I endured.
It disappointingly failed me.
Orion’s Belt has always been fodder for humor, having frequently referred to it as being held up by suspenders.
That’s “braces” to my European friends.
My own zodiac sign, the Leo, is found in the sky between Cancer to the west and Virgo to the east.
It is said that Leo is one of the oldest constellations and that which is most easily identifiable as the brightest and most distinctive.
This can also be applicable to those of us that fall under its draw.
We are ever-lasting; defiant, resilient, powerful, and that which is to never be overlooked.
Stars have long-been the basis of romantic movies, songs, and beliefs of immortality.
There may be some modicum of truth to all of that – the infinite and unfathomable potential of that which we have greater fascination than knowledge.
It was the Canadian-based rock group, Rush (bow to the GODS), that simultaneously marveled at the wondrous effect of the balls of fire and condemned them in two separate songs:
In the song Dreamline from the album “Roll the Bones” released in 1991 they muse:
“We travel in the dark of the new moon, a starry highway traced on the map of the sky”.
Conversely in the song “Ghost of a Chance” from the same album they prophesize: “I don’t believe in the stars or the planets or angels watching from above. But I believe there’s a ghost of a chance we can find someone to love, and make it last”.
Not sure that I necessarily agree with them, but that is another philosophical rant for another time.
However stars are regarded, they are miraculous and inexplicable elements that – or should – keep us in suspended animation.
Though there are countless numbers of scientific explanations, ancient Greek and Roman names given, or unexplained deaths that could not be more removed from those of a human body; the concept of stars and their purposes are breathtaking concepts.
And beautiful diamonds upon which to gaze when enamored.
…on the rare and brief occasions that are to be appreciated…
