america's child...

It's 6 am, and there is a helicopter hovering above my house. Normally I waken to silence, even in this neighborhood, and sit on the couch drinking coffee and marvel at the hummingbirds in my front window. They brighten my morning as does my sweet Sophia who giggles in her sleep. The helicopter, not so much. Los Angeles and its helicopters have always struck a dischord. Such a beautiful city in spots...and such a horrid cesspool in others. The helicopters bring images of war to my head. In Cairo we had air raid warnings and soldiers with submachine guns wandering the streets, hand-in-hand, and the military base next to our school had target practice often, shaking our walls, rattling the windows. Sometimes living in the 'hood of LA I feel like I'm back there, waiting for shots to ring and sirens to wail. We get out of our car every evening only after doing a thorough re-con, and I hold the "panic" button of my car alarm at ready till we're in the house. No one should live like that. And how is it possible that we live like that in America where there is no declared war and Mr. Bush tells us that the economy is fine and domestic affairs aren't even mentioned during election campaigns (oh, except gay-marriage and abortion rights...forgive me, how silly of me to forget). I drive down Crenshaw early morning and see hookers and dealers and poverty and hunger. Has George seen skid-row? We know he's seen Bel Air - his last visit screwed up traffic for hours. But who goes to visit skid-row and Echo Park and Van Nuys? The NPR reporters and Mr. Villarigosa are doing what they can, I'll give you that. I doubt our Governator has been there.

And this is just LA. What is happening throughout the rest of America? There are helicopters hovering all over in every city, and Mr. Bush continues to ask for billions to fight Al Queda and other random folks that he hates, and to force democracy upon others. Democracy. Yup. That's helpful. Democracy will end centuries of strife and hatred between the Islamic factions and the Jews. Converting everyone to Christianity would be best, but even Georgie can't dream that big. Let's just force some good old fashioned American democracy upon those rag-heads and that'll get us our oil and we'll all live happily ever after, even the crack heads and junkies will go away and America will be Eden and Georgie will get his crown. America's child will be free and safe.

this is what we've done

I try to avoid the news lately because of what we've done. This particular picture is from today in Iraq - 135 or more people killed by a single suicide bomber, probable support of Saddam. But it could be an image from Israel, from Afghanistan - a Jew, a Shiite, a Bathist, a Palestinian, whatever...another person that George Bush has helped to kill. Likely he is not a terrorist. Very likely he has a mom, a dad. Perhaps a wife at home who was waiting while he ran to the market for some last minute dinner ingredients, their son and daughter under five years old and clinging to their mom now as she cries and wails, not being able to fathom life without her husband in a country that has been destroyed by foreigners and zealots and martyrs...by a government across miles of sea and sand, run by a delusional sociopath who has no concept of reality or life or death and who calls himself a Christian as he signs the death warrants of hundreds of thousands.

Dino-Mite

I have really weird dreams. Last night there was a giant dinosaur fighting with a giant crocodile, which, it turned out, was threatening the dinosaur’s baby…who was also quite giant, yet very cute.

Now I’m no dummy and don’t need Freud to tell me that this war of giants is my little head worrying over the meeting yesterday between Soph’s dad and me at the therapist. Though I am a bit annoyed that my subconscious is defining me as a dinosaur.

Weird as shit to see the man who fathered my child. He is such an odd egg. Anyway, I guess it all went well, though we still have no firm plans of how he will meet her, but we’re much closer. I guess my dream surprised me because I felt that he seemed like he really had her best interests at heart and that he really wants to be sure he doesn’t hurt her by vanishing again. But of course words are just that…they are not actions, and I’ve learned the hard way that most words that come out of people’s mouths have no fucking basis in reality.

She’s been saying lately that she doesn’t ever want to meet her daddy. I know it’s a defense mechanism, but still I worry that I’m totally doing the wrong thing. And it’s so strange…so many people I speak with now have never met the fathers. What the fuck? My trainer, a lawyer I’m negotiating a deal with, two or three of the babysitters I use…lots of folk have not met their dads and they mostly carry around a big huge ball of hatred and resentment. So…that is not what I want for my sweet Sophia. But I don’t want her to be hurt by him either, to have expectations shattered. She thinks he is a rock star but he’s really just a drummer who tours in bar-bands and does some studio work and is poor as shit. Her dreams of riding in a limo with Daddy to one of his shows are sooooo not going to happen. This is no Disney Channel movie, sadly enough.