Month: December 2013

fishingboatproceeds:

to-witness-my-fitness:

sandandglass:

Diane Ravitch on The Daily Show. 

Ravitch is the queen. If only the government would listen…

We would also address poverty directly. We would increase the minimum wage and make post-secondary education cheap or free, and we’d improve improve unemployment benefits and offer free job-training to the unemployed. 

Poverty is one of the few social ills where throwing money at the problem really does seem to work.

These are not radical, liberal ideas. In fact, in Europe most of them are associated with the more conservative parties, and many of them were associated with the American Republican party in the 80s. But the United States’s political climate is so different from anywhere else in the industrialized world that I fear we will just continue to get farther behind in education (and in % of people living in poverty) until we decide to make some big domestic investments.

Dear revisionists, Mandela will never, ever be your minstrel. Over the next few days you will try so, so hard to make him something he was not, and you will fail. You will try to smooth him, to sandblast him, to take away his Malcolm X. You will try to hide his anger from view. Right now, you are anxiously pacing the corridors of your condos and country estates, looking for the right words, the right tributes, the right-wing tributes. You will say that Mandela was not about race. You will say that Mandela was not about politics. You will say that Mandela was about nothing but one love, you will try to reduce him to a lilting reggae tune. ‘Let’s get together, and feel alright.’ Yes, you will do that. You will make out that apartheid was just some sort of evil mystical space disease that suddenly fell from the heavens and settled on all of us, had us all, black or white, in its thrall, until Mandela appeared from the ether to redeem us. You will try to make Mandela a Magic Negro and you will fail. You will say that Mandela stood above all for forgiveness whilst scuttling swiftly over the details of the perversity that he had the grace to forgive.

…

Nelson Mandela was not a god, floating elegantly above us and saving us. He was utterly, thoroughly human, and he did all he did in spite of people like you. There is no need to name you because you know who you are, we know who you are, and you know we know that too. You didn’t break him in life, and you won’t shape him in death.

Musa Okwonga

Excerpts from his brilliant essay Mandela Will Never, Ever Be Your Minstrel. I love that he included Bob Marley’s lyrics, because he too like so many very much so human yet very much so remarkable people have been turned into memes and reframed to serve White supremacy and make the status quo and the State comfortable, literally what these people were fighting or singing or marching or writing or speaking etc. against.

When sentiment doesn’t allow for complexity and seeks to serve White supremacy, it cannot respect Mandela’s legacy. It cannot respect Black lives. It cannot be truthful in relation to justice—the justice still needed today for the racism and oppression that still thrives today.

Nelson Mandela was a human being and a complex one who fought with people, not alone, for a justice that cannot be separated from both the desire for peace and the necessity of self-defense from the State, both unity and the reality of racism so virulent and so pungent that we still smell and experience that stench today. His enemies—people who wanted him imprisoned or dead—are the same ones (literally, by name, in some cases) who are desperate and thirsty to reframe his life and legacy in a way where “peaceful” means “sought White approval; didn’t believe in self-defense.” Let’s remember him for who he actually was and what he did, with all of its complicated, difficult, radical and glorious complexity.  

(via gradientlair)

Underground by James L. Wilber

In the underground city of Necropolis, Hades is bound by duty, family, and his own alienation. That all changes when he meets Persephone, a true free spirit. Will their love tear apart the world above and below? From the author of My Babylon comes a modern retelling of the Hades & Persephone myth. Underground is a story about the conflict between family and passion. Along with stories from Stephan Michael Loy and Shade OfRoses, Underground is part of a Mid-World Christmas Collection. Find more great books by indie authors at midworldarts.com.

Get it at Amazon or Smashwords

Excerpt:

At breakfast I stopped playing fair. I told the chef to prepare crepes and mimosas. Over hair-of-the-dog and sticky-sweet I tested the waters, seeing how much deeper into this fantasy she would go.

“What else do you want to see before you leave?”

She twirled her glass and thought about it, looking luscious wearing a white bathrobe. “I don’t have any clothes.” She said with a smile and a dare.

Relishing the pursuit, I wanted her to keep chasing. I knew the further she went the more likely she would become lost in the woods. “We’ll have to remedy that. You should go shopping while you’re here anyway. I’m sure you don’t have stores like we have here back home.”

“Good point,” she agreed.

We spent the day goading each other. I perceived a subtext in every word she said. “What do you think I’ll need?” became, “What do you think I’ll need, if I stayed here?” Stayed another day, another week, another month? “What do people wear to the theater?” became, “When are you taking me to the theater?” “Is it okay if I get some lingerie?” became, “Would you like to see me wearing this in bed?”

With us wrapped up in our game, the day passed in what seemed a few dozen glances, touches, heartbeats.

In the early evening she called her mom again. This time I let her have her privacy. Through the walls, I could hear her crying, shouting, and pleading with her mother. After, she came striding out of her room and slapped the phone into my outstretched palm.

“What else do you do around here for fun?”

No need asking her how it went. “You want to see a play or a musical?”

So it went, a repeat performance almost every day. We would hang out, maybe shop, or see a museum, then nightlife. Afterwards we drove ourselves to distraction. A little further sometimes. She had that modern sensibility about how you can do everything but that one thing and still not call it “fucking.” No need to get into details. Suffice to say it was enough to keep me deliriously distracted. When it came down to it, Necropolis really did run itself. Unfortunately, the people topside aren’t so lucky. Every time she called her mom it made her furious. So she stopped calling altogether.

I’m not sure how long this went on. Time runs differently in Necropolis. Never seeing the sun has a strange effect on the brain. You don’t know if it’s been one day or a hundred. Without reservation I would say it was the best time of my life. I was so involved in her and her in me that it took a visit from family to snap me out of it.

Zeus sent his messenger boy, my nephew Hermes, the kiss-ass. When he arrived I had the servants stash him in the boardroom, and by the time I got there he was tapping his fingers and fiddling with his phone like he had somewhere else to be. He could have just gotten up and went and it wouldn’t have hurt my feelings.

“What’s up?” I asked, settling into my seat.

“We’ve got problems.” Straight and to the point, no-nonsense Hermes.

“Yeah, what?”

“Demeter’s pissed.”

I sincerely wanted him to deliver a message for me–that Auntie Demeter could go suck it– but I played along. “Oh, what about?”

He gave the, really, asshole? look. “About Persephone. About her staying here.”

“That’s between her and her mother. Besides, if she’s so concerned why doesn’t she fucking come get her?”

“She doesn’t know Persephone’s here.”

“What?”

“You know, you can be intimidating.”

Yes, I did know that. “And?”

“Nobody’s willing to rat on you. Guess she hasn’t told any of her friends either, except Hekate. And she’d rather not get involved.”

I scratched my beard. “Why are you here? I thought Zeus didn’t give a shit? This was all his idea, you know?”

“I know.”

So the fucker did plan this all along.

“And he’s happy that you’re happy. But there’s been unintended consequences.”

“Like what?”

Another patented, are you a fucking moron? look. “Don’t you watch the news?”

I scratched my beard again. I did watch the news. Or more specifically, I used to watch the news, every day, during breakfast. My breakfasts were now booked with more pleasant activities.

I scowled. “What?”

“Demeter’s gone off the reservation. Nothing’s growing. She refuses to farm anything. Helios has been in hiding. He knows Persephone’s here but he’s afraid of you and afraid of Demeter. Everything’s frozen. You’ve cocked things up nicely.”

I put a hand to my chest, mea culpa. “This was Zeus’s fucking idea. He can fix it. She’s his daughter too you know.” Did I mention that my family tree is more of a shrub?

“It may be Zeus’s idea but it’s about to become your problem. Can you say starvation? Can you say mass immigration?”

The little shit had a point. If people topside began dying off in droves it meant a whole lot more people in Necropolis. Which meant housing and traffic and all those shitty problems I thought I had delegated but would be overwhelming concerns if Hermes wasn’t exaggerating. I would have to get back to work, which meant less time for Persephone. Either way, I was fucked.

“Okay, I’ll talk to her,” I said. “I’ll try to get her to go home for a visit. Or at least call.”

“If I were you I’d make sure she leaves before Demeter finds out where she’s been.”

“I’m not afraid of Demeter.”

He looked me up and down on his way out the door. “I give it even odds.”

Get it at Amazon or Smashwords

Good morning. What is banishing? I would like to learn about dream recall

lucifelle:

A banishing is short for The Lesser Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram and it is a ritual that clears the working space, energetically…it is actually a precursor to other, more complex rituals. Those who practice ceremonial magick do it daily as a sort of cleansing and precursor to any work that follows. This way you can be sure that your working space is free of parasitic or malelvolent entities. I follow my banishings with an invocation to the Egyptian Sun God Amoun Ra because of my personal affiliation. Any Goetic/Enochian work too should begin with the LBRP. Basically what it does is it strengthens the light body by drawing upon your light source and bringing it down your spine from the Source into the material realms (Malkuth on the Sephiroth) and reinforcing that by calling upon God-names at the 4 compass points which also correspond with the elements. From my experience it has made dream recall, astral projection and dream lucidity much easier to control and has strengthend my inner sight considerably! You can find many tutorials online with a quick Google search.

Good luck! 🙂