Old Granny says,

I made the best choices I was given to make, even under some unfortunate circumstances, and I don’t feel guilty for following my own Stars.

Happy Venus Transit Days are Coming Soon! And I had a dream once, that reassured me I’d be alive to see it from the Desert, live on TV and internet.

So, I’m getting ready for the Paradigm Shifting Party, when the Spirits of the GhostDancer’s will rise from my native land, and maybe gather in the clouds, to help us transfigure our survival options.

I believe that the transportation of Spirit by Buddhists, and the Ascension of Jesus, PROVE that Sentient Human Beings are capable of ascension to a higher paradigm of existence on the ethereal plane, as predicted by the Mayan Calendar.

If NOT, then I am prepared to spend my next life in the Land of Faerie, beyond the Mists of Avalon, trying to change this death cult paradigm from there, with magic more powerful than mere words.

My Mother told me, when I was little, that Heaven will be everything I’ve ever wanted it to be, and I’ve always believed her, so the Pearly Gates of Castle Chariot is my soul’s next destination, and my descendants will often see me in their dreams, haunting and pushing them to believe in the magic of Sentient Life..

KaliMorganaSage

Dearly TexanDodder by Law,

I was called to a Mission at the cusp of my first Saturn Cycle, that only another Capricorn/Aquarian hybrid has ever understood, and I’ve become assuredly self-righteous because I’ve never backed down from choosing to walk in balance on my own fated path, to make the World a better place, one person at a time, beginning with me, every morning that I’m blessed to wake up.

Dearly Eblenn, I’m gonna find yer Methodist Pastor on the web, inform him of our struggles, and ask him and his wife, to get involved with some family counseling, before, when, and after I get there in August. …Kali

PLZ tell Bobby how trapped I was feeling in the backyard. Of course I escaped again! That’s the kind of Woman I am. I’D HAVE BEEN DEAD LONG TIME AGO if I hadn’t become an escape artist. And Bob should thank his lucky stars I left him safely tucked in the bosom of his Good Father’s family.
I only meant to stay in Georgia for two months, but I refused to go on another road trip with my girlfriend ever again, because of her careless, maniacal driving.
So, it’s taken me awhile to organize an escape from this flea-cursed house, and get back to the Revolution happening in the WestTexas Desert. YEE-HAW! So, I would really like a Homecoming BarBque in your front yard, the first week of August, so I can load up my household stash and go off to set up housekeeping in Terlingua.
I’m a FreeAmazon. I can’t live under any man’s roof. He should remember at least THAT much, if he wasn’t so caught up holding a grudge. He’s harboring angst and its killing him (and me)with stress. PLZ tell him to ‘lighten-up’, will you?

Luv and sweet peasce, Granny Sage, the witchy eccentric

MovieSet Review/FRIED GREEN TOMATOS/WHISTLESTOP CAFE

I’m not judging Juliette, Georgia on the ethics issues involving a fictional Alabama town full of clansmen. I’m pleased with the feel of the yokels working at, and supporting a pleasant way to become legendary amongst tourists who have always preferred to ‘see America first’, because it’s good for the life of a town with homespun beauty.

The WhistleStop Café is marvelous, and deserves her place on any hipi map. Garden Salad, Peach Cobbler, and a heap of french-fries w/ ketchup, for two, plus bottomless, iced sweet tea, served in a canning jar, was $20.

So, even though I saw no Color in, or around-behind, the People of Juliette have done a fine job of growing a nice little town for little old ladies, and yuppie GrandMothers, and even fat, old hipis like me in the front porch rockers. A burly old guy even came-on to me as I was sitting backwards on a barstool, waiting at the restroom door. He tapped me on my shoulder when I wasn’t looking, and I leaned back, like in my salad days, and said “What?” So, we danced a few one-liners, back and forth, until I called him an Old Hipi. Whenupon, I left him grinning speechless, without falling off the stool.

The place is ‘styling’ as they say in Yankee New York. And it feels like a town which would’ve harbored a colored man’s wife and her secret,
white-manslaughter, in defense of her husband, and her best friend’s baby. ( so now you remember who done it?) (and I’m SURE the old Lady telling the story was Itchie,the BeeCharmer.)

Macon Blues/Resolution

It seems both of us were feeling trapped with each other’s manias forever, without sight of a flight back to the Desert and Revolution for me and both my animal familiars. But BrotherFriend Robert finally got back on line from his new HomeGrown GreenPowered Homestead, and offered me a new HomeTown in the Big Bend Desert, where I can drive home from the bar under starlight in my golf cart, with my black dog running shotgun in front of me. So, Robert’s Roadship will arrive by the
First of Hot August Nights, to carry me West to the Texas Desert, and leave my girlfriend’s fleas behind with herself.
And the maniacal, reactionary, demented old bitch has been reassured that she’ll be getting her house back to before dogdays hit, and I won’t have to shampoo Lillian for fleas every morning.

Refer to ‘I Believe in Happy Endings, by Neil Diamond

Macon Blues

Can’t count on my girlfriend to put my hair in a pony-tail, or scratch my back, except on payday, and can’t count on the Old Cracker down the hall, whom I’ve been tending, to baby-sit my Dog when I get to go to Walmart,
So what’s the advantage of living here with NO BACKUP of any kind?

Had to call the cops yesterday to climb the stairs to her ’ivory tower’ , and check on her at 3PM (heat index 100), as she hadn’t turned on the AC at noon, as is her routine, and wasn’t answering her phone, so I thought she might have been heat-struck and unconscious.

The Lady Cop climbed the stairs, knocked on her door, and Jahnean answered it right away. Said she was fine, but acted like she was totally unaware and unconcerned about me and Lillian baking with NO AC in the heat to the day! Is negligence only a crime if I die here? Poor Lillian would probably be shot to put her out of her grief.

So, It seems to me that I made a BIG mistake coming here to Georgia, only to find out that my friend is dangerously crazier than I thought she was, and that it’s time to make some plans to get back to my desert township by Halloween.

Lillian is miserable, losing weight, suffering hordes of fleas, might not survive the summer, so my only option might be to have her euthanized so I can catch a GreyHound to Pahrump, and board the TecopaShoppingShuttle'BRROOOM'…I’m sure that my Sisterfriend, BonitaLinda will let me sleep on her couch, and help me find a new camp to rent.…OR I could make a stop in Carson City to visit my Motherfriend OkieThelma while she’s still alive. And I wonder if I should stop in Texas to sell my GolfCart to the highest bidder, or raffle it off? Might have to since $600.00 a month from SSI might not cover bus fare all the way, and pay for vet fees, too.


On the other hand, as Queen of Hipi Road, Emeritus…if I could get lucky again, and hook up with another Veteran Hipi or Rainbow Elder, with a dog-friendly camping vehicle who is willing to take a road trip to the Great American Desert and Hot Springs, where there are no leash laws, I could de-flea my Old Sweetheart and load her up, instead of releasing her back out into the infested yard to sicken and die too young. For being a desert homebody for most of her 8 years, she took to being a road dog happily and well, until we got to this hell-hole of a greasy, pestilent, gulf coast summer. If I could get her home she might live another 8.

Anybody out there reading this? Be Aware…I am an old, fat, feminist witch, and my purple-tongued, half-breed Chow, Lillian Weed, is a mind-reader who doesn’t like mean, unhappy people, so if you are an experienced driver with air-conditioning, and the good will to make this voyage, send possibilities, references, phone number, etc. to MorganaSage@gmail.com or 149 Rogers Ave.,Macon,GA 31204 Soonest!

We travel light these days...2 bedrolls, an ice-chest, an herbal medicine bag, and a piggy-backing laptop.

Helen Thomas, BRAVO

Even Yokel Georgian Newscasters understand EXACTLY the lack of the need for caution at her Age and Status as Dean of Informed Journalism.

I look forward to watching her opinionated approach to working out some common sense solutions for the Children of the Holy Land, during a LONG working retirement.

Elder Helen is RIGHT…an Independent Palestinian State is only Kosher.

Jesus and Mohamed were Sons of the same Father, so Allah and Jehovah
Are One and The Same God of the Brotherhoods.

The Jews were granted a righteous Homeland, so now it’s time for Israel to give as good as She’s gotten, to the Palestinian side of the Family.

Wouldn't it be appropriate for Our Commander-in-Chief to issue an order to deploy military engineers aboard submarines, to command the capping of the rogue well?

Woes of a Pessimist

If only we could have cut our reproduction rate to a bare minimum which would have propagated only the best DNA for a sentient future;
but NO...people are fucking like doomed lemmings who devastate their food source on the way to the cliffs, every time their population explodes.

In four-legged herds, the breeding females vastly outnumber breeding males, so 'mankind' must be an aberration of the natural world, and our civilization is doomed by a bunch of dumb fucks, who are obsessed with sex and start 2nd and 3rd families into their Viagra-powered 80s.

Evidence that there are too many males in the herd, is all over the sex-crazed media,
where maniacal behaviors are standard fare on 'talent' shows, and the evening news.

If only sentience was more prevalent in the human species, we might have survived our civilization, but it looks to me like We are goners! Thank goodness I won't live to see the last throws.

MayDay22’10/Saturday Musings

I’ve just figured out that my Curse has always been to search my World for Intelligent Life, in a darkening climate.
What for? Why? Who? Me?
Is that why I’ve always felt like an Alien having to deal with resurrection myths?

What if all the UFOs and funny lights in the swamps and crop circles, are just Our Ascended Ancestors, checking in for Duty.

Carl Sagan would like it, if there ARE any Aliens, would they please harvest our waste hydrocarbons from the Gulf Coast, and take it OFF Planet, SOONEST!

Let Us Pray ‘they’ are, and do it, because it doesn’t take a Cassandra to see that A BILLION BARRELS are coming to turn Our Gulf Coast into a tar pit.

Psst…somebodies gotta ask the gods? who hardly ever answer? Phooey!

From Wikipedia:
A gut feeling, or gut reaction, is a visceral emotional reaction to something, and often one of uneasiness. Gut feelings are generally regarded as not modulated by conscious thought. (For a discussion regarding the brain-gut connection, please see Irritable Bowel Syndrome, as well as literature discussing the physiologic manifestations of emotions i.e. neuroendocrine gastrointestinal physiology). Gut feelings come from within, what your brain tells you to do. It also allow you to make a decision based on what your "gut" tells you to do.
The phrase "gut feeling" may also be used as a short-hand term for an individual's "common sense" perception of what is considered "the right thing to do"; such as: helping an injured passerby, avoiding dark alleys and generally acting in accordance with instinctive feelings about a given situation. It can also refer to simple common knowledge phrases which are true no matter when said, such as "Water is wet", "Fire is hot", or to ideas that an individual intuitively regards as true, without proof (see "Truthiness" for examples).
Gut feelings, like all reflexive unconscious comparisons, can be re-programmed by practice or experience.

But...
In my experience, and after reaching a mature age, I think intuition and gut feelings are NOT unconscious reflexes, but instead are cultivated standards that are of use in deciphering emotional and physical and intellectual hazards or opportunities, to accomplish a reasonable understanding of how to handle one’s self in almost any situation, that’s consistent with the mind, heart, and spirit, of what it means to be sentient and involved with other Beings. It seems to me that a brain which manifests unresolved emotions as discomfort and disease, is more culturally handicapped than pathological.

Granny's ClubCar "DixieMcGee"...driven by her Great-Great-GrandDaughters'Mother/2010

RED HAT SOCIETY POEM
Warning
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.
I will wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week,
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes,
And set a good example for the children,
And I will have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
- Jenny Joseph (1961) as edited by me, MorganaSage, aged61

The Girls in our hotel room/office

My Girls guarding my privacy while I'm in the Hot Tub.

Hot tub therapy.

In the Pink after hot tub treatment.

Excerpt from the poem, Monster, by Robin Morgan, 1971

I want a women’s revolution like a lover.
I lust for it, I want so much this freedom,
this end to struggle and fear and lies we all exhale,
that I could die just with the passionate uttering of that desire…

Oh mother, I am tired and sick
“How do you stop from going crazy?”
No way, sister, no way.
May we go mad together, my sisters.
May our labor agony in bringing forth this revolution be the death of all pain.
May we comprehend that we cannot be stopped.
May I learn how to survive until my part is finished.
May I realize that I am a monster.
I am a monster.
I am a monster.
And I am proud.

FROM DREAM JOURNAL
Doomsday Dream
A view from the Death Valley Desert
January 2002

An unseen naked few
are left to track the end of daylight…
as Venus flys across the face
of a dark and bloody sunset...

a Few to share scarce pieces of found light…
to witness fallen darkness
and accept the cold without stars…

a Few to share the arrival of lasting darkness,
the final episode of night…
becalmed in an enclave of freedom…

a Few to share the journey
into the totality of darkness…
the pending cold without stars…

a Few to share the loss of foreboding visions…
and carry the memories of life
to the other side of nightmare…

a Few to keep a whelming faith onward
to a sentient dawn…
to ride a nascent flame
beyond the cold without stars

THE AIDS CONSPIRACY, published 1987,
in an underground newspaper in ‘the’ Village, NYC

AIDS is iatrogenic.
The human organism’s immune system has been seriously compromised, and rendered ineffective in some cases, by the medical profession’s concerted efforts with generations of antibiotics, primarily penicillin, which has become known to mutate the body’s natural response to infection, which then becomes resistant, progressively.

Can it therefore be said that if one is a chronic consumer of medical treatment, then is it likely that one is susceptible to encountering a fatal virus?

We are a dying race. Folks are racing to die. The emergency rooms of Amerika are filled to overflowing with hurt and sick people. We are dropping like flies in a hard freeze, from cancer, pneumonia, murder, stress.
Would Big Brother want us to notice the death throes of a terminal environment? Would doomsday announcements cause panic and expedite genocide?

Triangulations are possible to support a theory that there exists a conspiracy to camouflage the catastrophic consequences of a necrotic society, and to control the masses with medication, government funding, and methodical moral fascism.
The Church and State are in collusion to assign responsibility to the individuals who recreate, procreate, and aspirate toxic atmospheres; to alienate us from each other in our intimate relationships; to keep us divided, under suspicion, and subdued.

The practice of modern medicine has become a death cult religion to govern and control the culture of Life, Freedom, and Health, for profit.
The Church Fathers of the Dark Ages murdered the real healers at the stake, and proceeded to design a renaissance to co-opt and redefine ancient sciences in patriarchal ritual terms of war. We can see how modern medicine has lowered the death rate, and raised the birth rate, so can it also be held responsible for the Population Bomb exploding our chances of survival? And can the HIV/AIDS pandemic be seen as the medical profession’s ‘final solution’ to the TOO MANY LEMMINGS Syndrome?

Y2K EPISTLE FROM HUMBOLDT NATION
TO THIS SEVENTH GENERATION

I FEEL INSPIRED to share some native understanding on the subject of Prayer.
Creative and effective Prayer for divine intervention seems to work best when envisioning nurturance and healing. These prayers seem always to be answered.

The Lakota Sundance did not work to avoid genocide, I think because to envision suffering tends to perpetuate it, and because to offer pain as a bribe to any god is inhumane and undignified. The Sundance was discontinued in the 18 th Century, and it was only revived some 30 years ago, for the edification of New Age, pale-faced tourists.

The Ghost Dance that swept the Nations during the 19th Century, however, had great effect in regards to the prophecies saying that the Elders would return invincible, and in the 20th Century, the Rainbow Tribe was born from the dreams of a Ute homelander Medicine Man, to provide harbor for those Elders in the Hearts of Amerika’s Woodstock Generation, which explains, I think, the intense personal and political identification with Sovereign Native Spirit that so obviously makes It’s Self manifest in our counter-culture, these days.

Seems to me to be the logical development of the Great Purification Prophecy promising that the Spirit of the Land will rise from it, and be cleansed and healed.

So…it’s up to US. We are the last Seventh Generation. Our descendents are not guaranteed to make it that far into the future, whole.
It’s up to US to rise up, and quantum leap into the Spiral Dance of World Consciousness, and actually accomplish successful revolution NOW!

This Great Millennium Prayer for World Peace is programmed in the fabric of our DNA, the Helix of Life as we know it.
I think that Jesus will feel right at HOME this time around, as Our Original Elder Hipi Hero, dontcha know. Changing our attitudes is the easiest way to change our paradigm, thereby saving Ourselves, and whatever is left of Our Ancient Redwood Cathedral Forests.

By me…Morgana Sage, Woodstock Rainbow Elder’s Council’90
Queen of Hipi Road at Blackdog Junction, Tecopa Station’05

In Defense of the Feminist Movement:

We did not mean to denigrate the value of women's labor in the family, the home, or the World. Nor did we intend that our daughters would also be surrendered to the blood sacrifice of war, against our will and better judgement.

We must take our rightful place as the movers, and the shakers, and the rockers of the cradles of a humane society in which each individual can live in dignity, security, and pleasure.

We must delete "war" from all vocabularies in order to disempower the military heirarchy for breaking the Commandment against murder, and it is Imperative that we irradicate racism, where ever it exists, and by any means necessary.

The last two verses of the last chapter of the last book of the Old Testament, Malachi 4;5-6 reads..." I will send you the prophet Elijah before that great and dreadful day of the Lord comes. He will turn the hearts of the fathers to their children, and the hearts of the children to their fathers; or else...I will strike the Land with a curse."

This 'bottom line' prophecy could be translated to modern terms as warning to delete war or else face total destruction unto extinction, and that we'd best start acting like we are willing to live without resorting to death cults.

Y2K Designer Virus

All of us here who have refused
the mark of the beast,
are already on the march
into a thousand years of Peace.

We saints are motivated by
our ancestor's martyred spirits,
and we are an irresistable force.

Hipis unite! We've always been right!
Successful insurrection in sight!
Incite insights...
and program this command:
delete "war" from all vocabularies
and demand:
an immediate moratorium
on ALL commercial harvest
of our Ancient Redwood Cathedral Forests.

Silence, they say, is the voice of complicity.
But silence is impossible.
Silence screams.
Silence is a message,
just as doing nothing is an act.
Let who you are ring out & resonate
in every word & every deed.
Yes, become who you are.
There's no sidestepping your own being
or your own responsibility.
What you do is who you are.
You are your own comeuppance.
You become your own message.
You are the message.

In the Spirit of Crazy Horse, Leonard Peltier

Sappho's Reply,
thru and by, Rita Mae Brown, circa. early'70s

My Voice rings down thru thousands of years
to coil around Your Bodies and give You Strength...
You, who have wept in direct Sunlight...
You, who have hungered for invisible things...
You, who have marched to the Cadence of My Legacy:
AN ARMY OF LOVERS SHALL NOT FAIL

Our Terran Goddess Gaia, Mother of Nature, is a Horticulturalist.

Gardener’s Hand, by Daughter Morgana, 2007

Mother Nature is my Goddess,
and I’ve seen her Gardener’s Hand
in a Vision of a Titan Woman’s ForeArm,
up to the rolled flannel sleeves above Her Elbow,
reaching down thru the cloudcover to poke a seed
into the Soil, with Her index-fingered Fist,
just like the Hand that touches Adam’s Finger
in the Sistine Chapel, only…
this Celestine Vision was of the Divine Feminine Ilk,
from One of the Seven Sister’s Realm/Sphere in the 10th Dimension.

Whaddya wanna bet???
Makes me WONDER…what if, in the Beginning,
The Word was ‘Music’, instead of ‘God’. Hmmm?

Forty years ago, I saw a painting on a friend's wall, that has haunted me ever since, as a definitive concept of primal reality. I hope this photo-shopped rendering of a floating egg, speaks the same simple and profound message, even though the depth and texture and soul of the artist is missing.

The END is sooo NEAR that....

...invading and occupying, and colonizing Mars is a foolish ambition because I don't believe Mankind has time enough left, to escape self-destruction by immigrating to the hostile Void, off-planet, with a large enough gene pool to insure the continuence of even His own species.
The most we could accomplish might be to make a deposit of clonable DNA in an impermiable security box, with instructions for whomever finds the artifact eons after Our Demise, to re-constitute Our Remains for archaic exhibit. I would hope that the Chinese People's Government thinks of this idea first, so that the most successful race of Humans, and Panda Bears, and Whales, could represent the rest of us to Posterity, if there ever is any.

ta-ta...Sage2007

Memorial Day Truisms 2007

Patriotism is a false religion, of no value to any but the fascist State, which requires blood sacrifice as worship, in it's deathcult of war against it's Citizens and Neighbors.
America's Christian Values are Faith, Hope, and Charity, and Liberty thrives only under the Commandment to Love Our Neighbors, as We Love Ourselves.
As long as there are wars, Our World's Children will die on the alters of Old Men's vainglorious devils.

Just got Kurt Vonnegut's 2005 book, 'Man Without a Country', and George Carlin's,
'An Orgy of George', so I've been a little off the wall with attitude lately, huh hee hee haw!!!
Here's a funny one from George:
"Sometimes I look out the airplane window at a large city at night and wonder how many people are fucking. Somehow, this seems like an appropriate use of a good verb." Here's another...
"I think we've outgrown the word 'gripe'. When everybody has automatic weapons, a word like 'gripe' is sort of irrelevant."

Just goes to show ya how important wordsmithing is to changing language to change attitudes to change Our World to a New Paradigm. Viva la Revolucion!!!
luv and peas, Sage

During my 20’s, I was a wife and mother who became a women’s libber, and started wearing cotton instead of polyester. I got kicked in the teeth a lot, by the idiomatic status quo, for blurting truisms and exposing faux pa’s.

All during my 30’s and 40’s, I heard younger people, mostly impotent men and frightened women, accusing me of being behind the times, living in the past, stuck in the Sixties, chasing a lost cause.

Now I’m knocking at 60’s door, and I say, AH HA!
Who is so ignorant now, as to label me naïve and passé for believing in my own successful revolutions, when I see the motion rising, and it is irresistible, even NOW.

From: The Greening of America, by Charles Reich, 1970

"There is a revolution coming. It will not be like revolutions
of the past. It will originate with the individual and with culture,
and it will change the political structure only as its final act. It
will not require violence to succeed, and it cannot be successfully
resisted by violence. It is now spreading with amazing rapidity, and
already our laws, institutions, and social structure are changing in
consequence. It promises a higher reason, a more humane community,
and a new, liberated individual. Its ultimate creation will be a new
and enduring wholeness and beauty—a renewed relationship of man to
himself, to other men, to women, to society, to nature, and to the
land.
This is the revolution of the new generation. Their protest and
rebellion, their culture, music, ways of thought and liberated
lifestyle are not a passing fad or just a form of dissent and
refusal, nor are they in any sense irrational. The whole emerging
pattern, from ideals to campus demonstrations to beads and bell-
bottoms to the Woodstock Festival, makes sense and is part of a
consistent philosophy. This revolution is both necessary and
inevitable, and in time it will include not only youth, but all
people in America."

“Shamanism does not consist of knowing how many bat wings to put into the stew.
Shamanism consists of being yourself perfectly, because there is a permission and initiation for others in that. If you can be yourself perfectly in front of them, you create the space for them to be themselves perfectly also..”…Michael Harner, 197

"Here's to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes... the ones who see things differently -- they're not fond of rules... You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can't do is ignore them because they change things... they push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius, because the ones who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do."
By - Steve Jobs

My Hipi Herstory

I didn’t know I was a hipi until my store-bought smelling BlackWomen co-workers at the nursing home discovered that I didn’t shave my legs or pits, accused me of being one, and not understanding my feminist reasoning, beat me up for being queer. My fault, I guess, for never having told them that I was sleeping with THEIR men.

During my 30’s in the 1980s inner-city WestcottNation, of the SyracuseNY street-scene, I was the only single, straight woman with a steady job and housing, in a tight community of starving artists, poets, and musicians.
I fancied myself another George Sand, and maintained a Parisian-style Salon as a haven for my stable of menfolk, who fed my ego with regular massage-as-foreplay/therapy that kept me functional at the nursing home, and putty in their hands. But when 10 years of pot parties and keggers at my house, became alcoholic rescue and trauma recovery after crack parties I wouldn’t go to, and after I got fired and blackballed for union organizing, I closed up shop and escaped with my dog to the nearest Rainbow Gathering, to hang out with the garlic-breathed. I was already 40, so the sex-card didn’t play so well with the high holy male peerage, who could only get it on with emancipated teenie-boppers, but my younger brothers were more kind and feminist, so my broken ego was restored.
My only problem that summer was that the “older establishment” owned most of the transportation to the next gathering, and there was never enough “room on the bus” for me and my dog, so we were always left behind when the youngsters trolloped off to set up the next venue. It was a blessing, really, because I was drafted by my Vietnam Veteran Brothers to the clean-up crews, and they always gave, or found us a lift, no stings attached, but for True Love.

By early fall, my dog and I hitched a trucker who carried us to within spitting distance of the already frozen-out gathering at Granby Lake, so we hitched to Yuma to mend fences with my parents, but they were horrified that I’d gone native, so after a very uncomfortable Christmas season, during which my Rambling Rose got road-killed on the freeway, I limped home to the ‘Cuse, went to truck-driving school, hit the road again looking for a job, and made it all the way back to the west coast to visit my Grandmother, who emptied her savings account to buy me a 1970 v-dub transporter and another dog because she didn’t want me driving truck. And then she died, leaving me to live the life of an aesthetic for 8 years on Hipi Road.
Eventually, I found my way to Humboldt County, fell in love with the Redwoods and Julia Butterfly, and discovered that the Uzi’s in the woods were mostly just rumors. Spent three years looking for level parking and a job, but never found either. All the paid employment opportunities were reserved for the children of the yuppified growers, and the community’s elitists governed volunteer labor, so Emily and I ended up living at the curb next to the food bank, dodging speed freaks who wanted in from the rain. Social Services finally provided me with a psychiatrist and a lawyer who qualified me for a nut check, so that I could give away the no longer roadworthy Creampuff VW to the homeless for housing, and exit stage south with my dog in a $100 Cadillac, to retirement in Death Valley’s hot springs to recover from tick-induced lyme’s disease and unheated winters’ arthritis, add another dog to the family, have puppies together, and smoke compassionate herb.
Like Janis said at the end of Mercedes Benz….that’s it!!!!

Kirby's Coach, on the farm road between Mechlinburg and Odessa, New York...
I was playing pool with a Backpack Touring Woman named Janis, when she looked up from her bead on the 8ball, and looking right straight at me, said, "I dont suppose that Romance turns yer stomack(grin)?".
heh heh eheh heh ehe heh ...still makes me laugh, rememberin'. Specially, since she convinced me that she WAS Joplin, post mastectomy. Said she was living in a Collective Community outside DeKaulb Junction, N.Y., with a man named Crow. Come to think of it...she might be still there. Has anyone seen her lately?

And is there anyone left who remembers Onondaga Nite at the Landmark Theatre in Syracuse, the year Dennis Banks was harboured in the LongHouse? The message I heard delivered by the Nation's Cheif was
"There's a New Wind Rising...and it's the Women!"

How many of the 2000-plus people there in Harry's Landmark that night in the mid-eighties, are still around to remember? and keep passing the Words?
Hanta Yo, Sagebrush

Hipis Unite!
We’ve always been right!
Successful insurrection in sight!
We Saints of the Current Era,
are motivated by Our Ancestors’ Martyred Spirits,
and We are an irresistible Force,
whose Mission it is to Save the World.

Therefore, We Do Adopt
the following guidelines as basic Protocol
to Enhance Our Social Dynamics:

We will be humane and courteous with each other.
We will share honest passions, and not dump angst on each other.
We will not ejaculate false accusatory statements against each other.
We will not target each other with cheap shots.
We will not tread upon, or trip over each other’s various personalities.
We will open Our Hearts to each other,
and willingly make attitude adjustments, Together.

Tecopa MoonRise over the Sunset Mountains and Vegas.

I miss the stars, and Lillian misses the coyotes, so I've just decided to inaugerate a 2-year plan to heal up my joints in the hottub enough to move back to Death Valley with my canine and feline familiars, before we die in this moldering, deep south swampland. We'll be home by Venus Transit 2012. We should all live that long if I can continue to drop the extra weight on my ankles and knees...25 pounds gone since last summer.

CherryBlossumQueen

Cherry Blossom Festival in Macon, Georgia

Big hoodoo downtown, chamber of commerce hosting busloads of tourists, to celebrate showy, non-fruit-bearing trees. Even the pear trees are barren and scentless except to the HUGE bees. The MaleCitizenry is acting bonkers gayly, calling sexual display entertainment, and capitalizing smut in the name of freedom.
I'm staying home.

Nursing Notes: Sunday, spring equinox

I’m having a hard time getting my SweetHeart,
BlackChowXLab, Lavendar Lil’
To speak more softly to the White Gentry, if at all.

Been here at MaconStationN.O.W.Chapter for about two and a half months, and I’ve finally figured out the rent routine for the spa and office. It appears that I’m paying upwards of $350/mo., and that includes spa treatments, massage, access to herbal medicine cupboards, as well as room rent, wardrobe services, and weekly transportation. Pretty good deal, I’ve figured. Leaves $300 to feed my animals and
pay for my Perrier.

Went to a Neighborhood SpringFling/St.Paddy’s Day PotLuck last night with my Pegasus, and I was soooo bored, soooo early, hanging out with the city’s British gentry. I felt like the only nigger at the party. The kids were genuinely nice though. So…I’ve decided to NOT go to anymore parties to which I may not take my guide dog.


Nursing notes: 3/18/10

Yes, I notice many syncopations happening around me
and on broadcast TV. Synchronicities and syncopassions
and copasetic conversations abound, here at Our Witchy Hospice.

Question of the Day: From where do all these game shows on TV get all the prize money they give away even to the losers?

Mash Note to Leonard Peltier, post-parole denial 2010

Dearly Leonard,
We All and You are just damned lucky that "they"
didn't "give" you electric shock "therapy"!!!

Your Memories are precious because they all add up,
and You are still FREE to KEEP the FAITH.
Blessed Be with luv and sweet peasce,
KaliMorganaSageXSojourner

The only truth the Mayans predict for 2012 is a very long transit of Venus across the face of our sun. Every other gnostic pre-diction is MANufactured, hyperbolic deathcult. ??

Escaped from rabid,rednecked daughter-in-law in the heart of Texas, when my old girlfriend Pegasus swooped over from Georgia to carry me and Lavendar Lil' and Brunswick, my old fat calico, to her city mansion's backporch hot tub in Macon.
My son never told me before he moved me to Star, that he didn't have hot water available during the winter. HA! He kept saying that he was gonna 'take care' of me,but couldn't even get me to Walmart on paydays, much less let me get a motel room for a Christmas Shower.
So I left the golfcart the kids wanted, and my new computer that got possessed by my darling dau.outlaw, in exchange for a stupid cell phone.
My good old girl Lillian, the last blackdog at the junction, isn't fond of Peg yet, and the woman is crazier than I thought, when she tries to dominate my woofey-wife with alpha eyewars. heh heh. I think it's her elderly lesbian eccentricity of role-playing that's causing the yelling and barking arguments in each other's faces. Makes me wonder how long it'll take for the woman to learn to respect my relationship with my dog. And to quit leaving the gate open, hoping the dog gets taken to the pound, trying to rival a celibate woman's companion?
Is it a stereotype, or are old southern women hornier than most? I don't like the deep south much, yet. It feels so haunted. The townies are very gracious and well-mannered, but I wonder if they'd be so nice to me if they knew that I believe I was black in a previous life. I've never felt glad before, that I happen to be white. It's SPOOKY. I've also noticed after having traveled and lived all over the country from NavyBrat days onward...Hipis Ain't Yankees, unless they wanna be.

Kali Morgana Sage of Blackdog Junction,
Mayor, pro tem
Sovereignty Township Steering Committee,
Witch of Woodstock Nation,
and Queen of Hipi Road,emeritas
has moved to
MaconStationNOW's ERA Taskforce,the "CalicoConfederacy",
to ratify the EqualRightsAmendment in Georgia,
by any means necessary, including magic.
Also: Winter destination for Rainbow Elders Council!!!

Couldn't be a better day for Thanksgiving this year here in the Heart of Texas with my Son's family, who took off for the other Gramma's house last nite, and I've got the place alone with my four-legged family, which has been blessed with increase since I moved in with LavendarLil, and WilliamBandito, and CalicoBrunswick. Have aquired step-dogs (Jack and Jill Shitzu!)who were desperate for a little quiet time with Granny Sage's aminals(sp)...Have a Happy Holiday, and Blessed Be, Sage

KaliMorganaSage's National ERA HipiTaskForce
of Witches & HomeMakers & Renegades N.O.W.
announces the formation of a
AvalonNationGuildHouse@StarTX
by ThanksGiving'09

Moving to the Heart of Texas for Thanksgiving

First posted on Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Timeline 9.11

We are all way past critical mass
and the shared visceral quiver
is inspired by movement
across this paradigm's limits
into the new age,a millenium of peace.

Are we all a bunch of lemmings
who follow demented leaders
into the abyss? or
Will we listen to the voice
of Great Buffalo Spirit
and turn the herd?

We are Doomsday Generation.
It's up to us to change
the course of history
or there will be no future.

9.11.01 Indian Lake, Pennsylvania

It really got personal with the news of the third plane crashing in the fields 2 miles from our N.O.W. chapter's retreat on the lake near Shanksville, where I'd spent my 20's becoming a feminist magic-user.

9.11.01 in California's Humboldt Nation

Eight years ago, my V-dub was impounded for expired tags,
and Emily RedWood, my RottXwolf/shepard, and I, were camping
in the Garberville Cemetery, where we woke up when the sun rose
over the local mountain at about 8AM, and the first thing I'd do before getting up to pee on a tombstone, was clicking on my little radio tuned to the local Community Radio station, KMUD.

September 11th was the day I heard that New York was under attack, and I couldn't believe it until I stashed my bedroll and hot-footed it 2 blocks to the closest toilet at the Main Street Bar for morning coffee and wide-screen TV, where I saw New Yorkers evacuating the Island on foot across the bridges like shell-shocked refugees, stricken and resigned, masses of workers going home to meet up with their families, and watch the collapse of their world, and be thankful it wasn't a nuclear meltdown.
I've always loved my stoic Yew Norkers, and still do.

Seer/AccuzeSage
Witch of Westcott Nation
SaladDays,1980-1990

Californian Summer-of-Lover's Autobiographical Confessions
as submitted to Classmates.com/MarianCatholicHighSchool,
Class of'67.

I married Clyde two weeks after graduation in June '67, had two kids in Coronado, moved to Pennsylvania in '72, and joined the feminist movement. While I was a board member at the local YWCA, I also held offices in the local N.O.W. chapter,and the Pa.NOW State Board, and was Chair of the SW Pa. Council of NOW Chapters until '79. During this decade I educated myself by auditing courses at the University of Pittsburgh, and various State Campuses, as a non-matriculated Poly Sci/Comparative Religion major, and helped develop their early Women's Studies programs, under the tutelage of Eleanor Smeal, of the Feminist Majority Foundation, in Wash.D.C.
By the early '80's, I had left the kids safely tucked in their secure hometown with their father, the better parent, to do what I could to change the World, and get the E.R.A. ratified. I landed in Syracuse, N.Y., and promptly joined up with the Human Rights Community to work on getting the University to divest its stock portfolios of its South African interests in apartheid.
I made a living as a nursing assistant in old folk's homes, and provided harbour for the starving artists and musicians and poets who were my friends, and cohorts in guerrilla theater. We were street people before street people were called homeless.
I moved to Ithaca for a while, and haunted the Cornel Campus, and was fortunate enough to actually attend lectures given by Carl Sagan, hang out with cosmic composers, and hob-nob at the soup kitchen with poor intellectuals, because my minimum wage job at the nursing home did NOT cover the food budget in a college town with high rents.
I moved back to the 'Cuze just in time to see Apartheid, as well as the Berlin Wall fall, to take my last job at a big city nursing home...from which I was FIRED for union organizing, and blacklisted...couldn't get another job, so I left N.Y. to join the Rainbow Family of Hipis and Deadheads at the ripe old age of 40.
My first gathering was at Trumansburg, just south of Ithaka, and from there we went to Woodstock for the 21st Anniversary "coming-of-age-party", then to the West Virginia Mountains, and then to Colorado's Grand Lake Gathering, which everybody left early because it was sooo cold! Since I was so close to my parents who had retired to Yuma, I hitched a ride down to see them for the first time in 20 years. Needless to say, they were horrified that I had "gone native" and they pretty much finalized our relationship.
I limped back to Seer/accuse, went to truck-driving school and actually graduated!! and hit the road again looking for a REAL JOB. I rode and drove shotgun all the way back to the West Coast, dropped in on my bomber-mechanic son at Castle Air Force base, and then went to the Puget Sound to see my old Grandmother, who bought me a V-dub transporter and a dog, because she didn't want to see me driving big rigs. The only job I ever found driving was with a carnival, and that didn't last two months. Gramma only lasted one month before she died of stomach cancer no one knew she had, but at least I got to spend some quality time with her.
The Volkswagon pretty much trapped me into living the life of an asthetic, and I drove that thing up and down the coast for 8 years, looking for a job, a home, a level campsite. I spent a couple of years in Quartzsite, Arizona, a couple of years in Southern Oregon, three years in Legendary Humboldt County until I broke an ankle working as a hand on a goat farm, and came down with Lyme's disease from tick bite, which severely aggravated three kinds of arthritis in my 50 year old joints.
Thank goodness that Uncle Sam finally came thru with a nut check so that I could retire to this dry desert town that comes equipt with hot springs. Now I'm sitting pretty, happy that I'm no longer on the front lines of the Californicated Class Wars, but indulging my paranoid tendancies by hiding in broad daylight from a government which does not represent me. I wonder if "they" are reading this BIO

Sir Teddy/Knight of the Holy Grail
has been received at the
Pearly Gates of Castle Chariot
beyond the Mists of Avalon,
to party in crop circles
and play with the light's phantazm,
for a few more new generations of Faerie.

People of the World:
PREPARE for Tsunami of PEACE
JOIN THE GROUNDSWELL
TEDDY IS AT THE RUDDER

FREE: WITCH'S SECRET

Feminist Catholics, like me, don't usually need abortions
because we learn the Rhythum Method of Birth Control
well enough to thwart any unintended pregnancy
very early with abortifactent herbs.

Biggest Problem: over-population

"too many lemmings,
devastate their environment
before they jump over the cliff"

extrapolation:
7 billions by 2011
exhaling CO2 and
farting methane like cattle.

longevity has become over-rated
if it means being tortured to death
with surgeries and chemo, fighting cancer.

good, old-fashioned aspirin still works for me.

Necrotic Insurance Wars

Even fallen-away Catholics
listen to their Consciences
better than do Protestants.

The Sage say,
"Everyone in the Halls of Our Democratic Republic
should vote to pass the HeathCare Reform Bills
so the KOOKS amongst Us can get affordable,
judiciously mandated Mental Health Care Services,
ie: belligerant, cud-chewing, black militia men
with big-time automatic weaponry,
should be shot with a tranquilizer gun,
(NOT a taser since his finger could be on the trigger),
and fitted with a straightjacket, and hauled off to some Cooler,
for the rest of Us Citizens and Our Public Safety."

Letter from DaddyDon7/8/09

Dear Sage,

Got your(Father's Day)note at Dan's on 4th of July.

I was pleased to see that it was direct and without rancor. I hope it indicates a softening of your opinion of me and a mellowing of your militant attidude in general.

For several months, I have been considering writing to you but, I had no desire to get into a confrontational correspondence at this late date.

If you have turned down the flame of your "Burner" to "Low" or "Pilot" and would care to start corresponding, use the enclosed envelope.

If you want nothing to do with me, just seal the(empty) envelope and drop it in the mail.

Respectfully, "Hd." aka Dad

Hi Don, Are you aware that TecopaStation on the Old Spanish Trail, is directly under the hypotenuse between Edwards AFB and Area 51, near the bottom of Yucca Mountain's Watershed?

I'm not worried that I'm gonna be here in 20 years when the radioactivy starts to show up in the hot springs.

discussion? next question: wanna know what I want on my Tombstone on top of my ashes, when I'm gone? What are you gonna have on yours, HMMM?

SteelCitySageXSojourner

Woman of an Age fired by her Anger

Woman of a Rage tempered by her Love.


luv and sweet peasce, Sage

Feminist Polemics: re Alaskan Politics 2010

whaddya wanna bet?? that Sarah runs for the Senate,
and Alaskans vote to get her outta the State,
thereby inflicting
the known rabid, right-wing, rabble-rouser onto the DC Crowd,
to stampede Republicans thru barbed-wire towards
the greener grass in more democratic pastures??

heh heh heh

Alaskans have always been way-WildWestern radical activists, dontcha know??
Almost, just like the SovereigntyAnarchists in Vermont
and all the way to RedWood Country.

Re: Justice Sonia was immediately endorsed by N.O.W.
so, I think they may know something about her stance on Choice.
I do know that a lot of ambitious and poor Catholic Women
have always had to make their own tough choices.

Slicing the baloney more thinly:
Pelosi must be Celibate if she's never needed an abortion.

Nancy has always looked to me like a vacuous, doe-eyed, Bushie Democrat, devoted to accomodating 'the Man'-type of capitalistic politics.
Just watch her face behind and next to the Executive Presense at State of the Union addresses, or any Prezidental speech to Congress. She looks, and acts, and talks like she's thoroughly COWED, afraid of being back-handed by the VEEP, or of starting a brawl, or of being called names.

Between you and me, and the bedpost, I think she's been paid, or threatened to suspend good judgement. Has she sold her Conscience to get to, and stay where she is?

My ONLY hope for her is that being from California, she MIGHT YET start pounding and throwing her Gavel, before she allows anyone to continue blindfolding Justice.

IlanaDurga'sSong, c.2009
deleted by pub. as too immature
substitution amendments:

'70s Love Songs for IllAnaDurga/BragArt
in retrobution for being such a
YewNorking psyche-sucker!

EUPHORIA
by Kris Williams(KaliMorganaSage), circa.November1976

I have been lost in the Mists of the Moon
And rattled by the cries of Cicadae.
The love of the Sun has warmed my bones
And the Prairie Winds have billowed my Mind.
I have been witness to the life cycle of a Dandelion
And wallowed in a tempest of Autumn leaves.
I’ve smell the Dust of Ages, and of Mushrooms,
Felt the pleasure of a Snowflake’s kiss,
Crackled in the Light of a brittle Winter Dawn.
I have shared in the Bounty of the Love of my Sisters,
and through these I know You.
You have plucked at the soul-strings
attached to my Nature, Mother.

Gray’s Blues, circa. Nov.1976
Atmosphere evaporates in Your absence
And I am left to breathe a vacuum.
Gravity, Come home!

Mother’s Reminiscence, Aug 1977
Naked and storm-drenched
Plastered to the steaming blacktop
In the wake of summer thunder,
My Children wallow in their Youth
And gather insights by facemasking mud puddles.

Axe-maker to the Queen

Kady Van Duers, 1928-2003

Matron Saint of my First Saturn Cycle

Mother's Day Proclamation

Arise, then, women of this day! Arise, all women who have hearts,
Whether our baptism be of water or of tears!

Say firmly: "We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."

From the bosom of the devastated Earth a voice goes up with our own.
It says: "Disarm! Disarm! The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil at the summons of war,

Let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace,
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God.

In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And at the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.

Written by Julia Ward Howe in 1870

Granny's Handwarmer

WilliamValentine

Rare hug for Valentine's Day

from LillianWeed AlphaQueen

of BlackDogJunction

My CalicoQueenMary/CalamityJane
Valentine's Day

Here's~Rattlebone, by Robbie Robertson

Here's where we go off the map
Out past the power lines
Up that little side road without a sign
Hidden from the mainstream
The keepers of the ancient future
Keepers of the drum
They don't preserve it
They live it.

GhostWriter's Add Ice Column, by GrannySage

Today's FREE Answer
to solve a problem in the World.....

Isreal should declare a temporary ceasefire to open the border and organize an Exodus of civilian Palestinian Refugees to their Own State Capital of East Jerusalem, as rightful custodians of Their ancient culture.
Then, bomb the hell out of Hamas in Gaza, and collapse the gun-running tunnels from Egypt with bunker-busters!!!
WHY NOT?

Happy New Year'09 Agenda

1. Make list.
2. publish today's memo
3. submit haiku outline of ClassActCredentials.

ClassActCredentials of KaliMorganaSageXSojourner

I was a professional Sojourner of the FreeAmazonGuild
for 10 yrs. in WestcottNation and on the Eastern Seaboard, 10 years in WoodstockNation as Feminist Thesbian Anarchist (with great tits, thighs and ass),
and almost 10 years as Queen of Hipi Road, driving a V-dub, in pursuit of Happyness, Truth, and Daring,
as "HouseWitch 4 Hire".

Presently, holding down the WinterFort at BlackDog Junction, and wearing myself out by sundown, with NeighborHoodWatch, (in a town with two-legged rattlesnakes who defy hibernation), and Holding Fast to a survivalist dream of birthing a People's Solar Power Co-op, WindFarm, and DesertGreenHouse/OffGridCommunity.

When Old Dogs Die
September 17’08

I've always thought that Emily would outlive me,
for some reasons best ignored,but I must admit that my 9-year-old Heroic RottweillerXWolf/Shepard, is declining to bone cancer in her shoulder,
and lyme induced osteoarthritis in her hips. As usual, Dear Em is keeping me active providing Hospice.
She's being more macho than stoic, dontcha know, and plays her condition to the hilt, but I've noticed that she only cries or whimpers when she wants me to help her up, She seems exhausted but still has strength enough to hop with just a balancing lift on the sling. She's responding happily to palliative herbs and laughter, as we reminisce about our past together, before she goes. Shedding many tears that I'm learning to let go of more easily.Sobbing on the Web? Well, so what! She probably won't die today.

September 29’08
Emily has declined further since I wrote the above, and neither of us is so happily responding to the herbs. I just wish it were me losing the weight.

September 30'08
Got up this morning to tend to Em, and when I was washing her incontinent bottom, found maggots already feeding there. Came back in to wash my hands, and paced around in a daze, praying for strength to face the day, when out of the blue came an idea on how to release her...a plastic bag over her head, with a slip chain collar tight enough to close off air and control her. “Oh Kali!!!” I said out loud, “give me the guts to do this!” and She did!!! It was like I was in a trance, collecting the trash bag and collar, moving the lawn chair next to Emily who was laying under the Rosemary bush, singing Scheherazhad's Lullaby…"Sleep Donyazhad, sleep...close your eyes to what makes you weep. Early next morning, I'll tell you a story, if you like it is yours to keep." while I slipped the bag and collar over her head, and closed it snug. She took 5 or 6 breaths, blowing hard, while I chanted: go to sleep go to sleep go to sleep, until she threw her head up for one last gasp, said something to me in her singing voice, NOT her crying voice, and then went limp. I held her head up with the chain for 10 minutes, singing,
" Where are you going, my little one, my little one? Where are you going my own sweet one? Turn around and you're tiny, turn around and you've grown, Turn around and you are young again, with babes of your own." over and over. Took the bag and collar off, and imagined that she'd sung, "Release me, and never let me go." I DID IT!!! and I am proud that I could fulfill my duty to her. Not sobbing now, just a little weeping.



EMILY REDWOOD 8/4/99-9/30/08
Emily was being called back to the Womb
to serve the Goddess Kali,
but she didn't want to leave me,
so I had to take her last breath away,
and hold her till her loyal heart stopped.
She used her last bit of energy to raise her
head to me and say goodbye in her singing voice,
NOT the crying one.
Blessed Be. I've earned my Goddess name, finally.Thanx Em!!!

I stole his clothes and I'm holding him hostage until it's safe to go out on the Night of Mandatory World Peace.



Don't worry about the Saint...We're having a FortNightParty at my house, and getting massage and soaks in the Hot Springs.

heheheh hohohoho

2nd Saturn Cycle Retrospective
As I was approaching my first Saturn Cycle, I dreamed of being more than just an average housewife and mother. I wanted to change the world I’d been raised to fit into, the world I’d delivered my children into, to be one in which adventure and personal growth could be achieved without being ground down to a common denominator of passive acceptance and dumb luck. I didn’t want an ordinary life of raising ordinary children to become ordinary cogs in a system of ordinary sacrifice and struggle. I wanted to walk the shining path I saw before me, the path that led to real freedom, and the chance to make a difference; a path that my kids could follow without losing faith in their abilities to make the World a better place. Liberation was not so much a goal for me as it was a means to become unshackled from the expectations that chained me to a grist mill, the same chains that my children would inherit from an average discontented mother, if I didn’t make a radical effort to change the course of my life. Having no marketable job skills, and only marginal talents, I had no other choice but to leave my kids safely tucked with their father and his family, as I made the jump into the ruthless, dog-eat-dog, world of sexist, racist, classist society of strangers, alone, with no economic, marital, or political status, with nothing but my naked feminism, and my willingness to hold fast to the idea that I had an obligation to do whatever I could to make the world a better place for myself, my children, my fellow travelers, in this one life I owned. I almost didn’t make it thru the first two years.Leaving my family and sisters tore a whole in my heart, and I still weep when I remember the terrible loss, the awesome guilt, the horrible pain of knowing that I could never return to the fold that I had so drastically changed with selfish ambition and cold desire to become someone important enough to right the wrongs of an indifferent society. I was crazy with grief and the idiocy of believing that I could just volunteer my services to change the world, to heal the ignorant, to accomplish revolution of the social order, one person at a time. Suffice it to say, that I did get tutoring at the hands of the mental health establishment, which eventually convinced me that I had to learn how to make a living as something other than a revolutionary feminist, or die an unsung martyr to masochistic idealism. So I abandoned my attempts to infiltrate women’s centers and lesbian affinity groups, and took advantage of a displaced homemaker’s training program to become a member of the pink-collar labor market, as a nursing assistant in old folk’s homes. For ten years, I privatized my radical tendencies, complied to rules of behavior and dress codes, and actually learned to care about the needs of others. I loved the work, and it took me a long time to get used to being paid to do something I really would have done for just the satisfaction of being loved and needed. The paycheck gave me the freedom to make a home for myself and my community of misfit artists, and musicians, and poets, who did our living and loving, and world-changing, on the street, as guerilla thespians, and we did make a difference when we occupied the campus of Syracuse University to demand that they divest their stock portfolio of South African apartheid. We must have been one of the last straws, because very shortly after our movement hit campus, Apartheid fell, and we were all astounded further when the Wall fell in Berlin. My employment in nursing homes ended shortly thereafter, because I was arrogantly determined to make a comparable difference at my worksite by arranging to organize a Union presence, activities for which I got fired and blackballed. My co-workers did vote in the Union, and invited me back, but I was already suffering job-related wear and tear, so I left home again to join the Rainbow Family of deadheads and hipis. Only to find myself living in a Police State, where there is no free camping. I traveled in a Volkswagen, up and down the Californicated Coast, trying to make a home for my self and my dogs, only to be told that I am too old to be of use, and that I take up too much room, and that my grant-writing skills aren’t worth a salary, because the alternative culture is full of volunteers who are happy to donate their talents to the Cause.So I went back to a Mental Health Councilor, got diagnosed with depression, lymes diease, and osteoarthritis, and retired to the Desert with a nut check from Social Security, something I had always avoided like the plague because I thought it would damage my credibility as a writer. I was delusional thinking I had any.The irony of all the years I spent in Syracuse was that after hearing Karen DeCrow warn against the trap that was Women’s Culture, as she stepped down from the presidency of N.O.W. in Detroit, and after being barred from that culture on my arrival at the doorstep of her hometown women’s “club”, I was forced to gather beautiful New York men around me who could feel empowered by my Feminism, not threatened by it, and that we together could accomplish such a moral victory by making an ethical stand, and sharing a very certain pride of actually accomplishing real change. Karen must have been right, in her own way…Women’s Culture failed to get the ERA ratified, reproductive freedom is still a political football, and the politics of sexuality is clamoring for the bondage of marriage. Woman, as an independent individual is still shackled by trite convention, her dignity, security and pleasure still measured with the shortest stick.This one woman, however, has accomplished much, on any everyday basis, with the life and time allotted to me, and I do feel satisfied, justified even, that my choices have been good ones, and that if my children knew the woman I’ve become, they would be proud to call me Mother.
The personal IS political IS personal.
And it’s all been worthwhile.

To: ALL You who know My Georgia Peach of a Pegasus in Macon.
She agreed to marry me in California, when I gave her a crystal pentagram ring, and she sent me a golfcart as, what I took to be, an engagement present. She also Promised to die in the Desert, eventually and always, Together with Me, in Our OLD Age.

heh-heh-heh, How's THAT fer Gossip!!!

Emily Redwood
8 yrs. old
RottXWolf/Shepard















Lillian Weed
6 yrs. old
ChowXBlackLab

Subject:
Desert Green House Restoration Project,
Death Valley, CA. - Hip Forums
file:10 year plan, maturation and fruition by 2012.

Most of the misfits and outcasts(ie..hippies) whom I have known and loved over the last 40 years, have often as not, made a very satisfiying subsistance livelyhood just by working hard at being humane and happy...even when they've had to take temporary jobs in the service industries or production lines of corporate Amerika.
I've learned that Our Generation is a priveledged one, because We are the Ones whose meaningful work is to salvage the best of a collapsed social structure, BEFORE 2012 AD.
We have BECOME the Professional Class of the Coming New Age, so that we ALL can enjoy Our Decline of a Thousand Golden Years, and make it a Celebratory SwanSong of a Species. Viva la Revolucion!!! meanwhile, We CAN live on 'love', and raw sweet peas, if and when anybody wants to help restore a Desert GreenHouse to foodplant status>>>>bring us yer well-grown hip children to help. We could really use their talents....can he sketch out some blueprints? can she repair existing plumbing?luv and raw peas, Sage(local#4592)

hkbtHillary 4 VP'08 because...
...she DESERVES to preside over the Senate as Marshall, Executive Liason for Barack's Agenda,and Queen of the Housewives/in fighting pitbull uniform, cleaning House.

The Dream Ticket represents the next 16 years,
over the Mayan rainbow.

Paradigm ShiftingY2K+8,ought12...etc.Butt...whatdoIknow? I'm just a white Feminist, Green Republican Absentee Voter, who is thrilled to write-in Obama's name on a Republican Ballot, like a subversive provacatour. heh-heh-heh

In Regards to The Reverand Wright

I was NOT offended by the Pastor's preaching the Golden Rule, and condemning a war-mongering nation's foreign policy, or by his reminders of our government's conspiracy against Us.
Jeremiah, this old piece from 1985, is hereby dedicated to you. It's really too bad and so sad, that the media did such a number on the trust between you and Barack. Don't worry! It'll get made better, later.

Cinco de Mayo/AIDS Conspiracy Theory
AIDS is iotragenic.
The human organism’s immune system has been seriously compromised and rendered ineffective in some cases, by the medical profession’s concerted efforts with generations of anti-biotics, primarily penicillin, which have become known to mutate the body’s natural response to infection, which then becomes resistant, progressively.
Can it therefore be said that if one is a chronic consumer of medical services, then is it likely that one is susceptible to encountering a fatal virus?
We are a dying Race. Folks are racing to die. The emergency rooms of Amerika are filled to overflowing with hurt and sick people. We are dropping like flies in a hard freeze, from cancer, pneumonia, murder, stress.
Would Big Brother want Us to notice the death throes of a terminal environment? Would Doomsday Announcements only cause panic and accelerate genocide?
Triangulations are possible to support a theory that there exists a conspiracy to camouflage the catastrophic consequences of a necrotic society, and to control the masses with medication, incarceration, and methodical moral fascisms.
The Church and State are in collusion to assign blame to the individuals who recreate, procreate, and aspirate toxic atmospheres: to alienate Us from each other in our intimate relationships; to keep us divided, under suspicion, and subdued.
The practice of modern Medicine has become a deathcult religion to govern and control the culture of Life, Freedom, and Health, for corporate profit.
The Church Fathers of the Dark Ages, murdered the real Healers at the Stake, and proceeded to declare Renascence to co-opt and redefine ancient sciences into patriarchal, monotheistic ritual terms of war. We can see how modern medicine has lowered the death rate, and raised the survivable birthrate, so can it be held responsible also, for the Population Bomb exploding our chances of mass survival? And can the HIV/AIDS pandemic be seen as the Medical Profession’s ‘final solution’ to the TOO MANY LEMMINGS Syndrome?

Old Business

As an almost 60 year old Feminist Voter my issues go back to Sojourner Truth and Alice Paul, so I will cast My Vote this time for the Candidate most likely to use extraordinary Presidential Powers to Pardon Leonard Peltier, and Ratify the Equal Gender Rights Amendment, by Executive Order.
I'm betting that Barack is old enough to remember Leonard, young enough to remember that 18 year old men are still required by Law, to register for the Selective Service, and mature enough to have married a Feminist Woman.
Hillary has never been a Feminist, much less ever, even used the word.

21st Century EGRA: Equality of Rights, under American Law, shall NOT be denied or abridged, by the United States, or by any State, on account of Gender.

M(r.)&(s.) April Fool

Son and GrandDaughters

Re: Boycott Ca. Land Management, Abort CLM contract w/Inyo DeathValley County
Hay, Robert! that's my 39 year old son's name. He's an alfalfa
farmer, biker/mechanic in Texas. small world, hey. Medford was pretty
dreadful when I stayed at the women's shelter for Christmas, one
year...and I saw Arnica's version of Applegate, but I started that
particular summer tour in Ruch...heh-heh-heh where I REFUSED to wear
a gathering bracelet. So, I hope the changes you speak of have been
good ones, or ones that can be made good. bye for now, i'm off to
look at yer pictures., ta-ta, Sage Pssst...The Old Spanish Trail is
still a two-lane road thru "downtown" @ the Post Office. where we
only get the exhaust fumes on the weekends from the "duners", whom we
try to slow down in passing by signs and street theatre, trade
circles, a la california home movie set. Hipi Propoganda Videos,
worth $10,000 on America's Funniest. We've invited Leonard Peltier
to come here for rehab when he gets out with a presidential pardon
from Barack Obama. The Corporation is still holding our baths
hostage, and We, the People of Tecopa and A.I.M. intend to occupy the
premises with a free reign.

I am a 59 year old, Green Republican, a duly registered, absentee Voter, who hereby promises to vote for the Democrat who will promise to get the Equal Rights Amendment ratified, ASAP.
If neither Hillary or Barak mentions My Issue, I will write in My Vote to Draft Al Gore. My only compromise is that I'm tempted to vote for a sensible and articulate Black Man who could repair Our Image on the World Scene. The Clinton Soap Opera seems to me to be just too tacky for the 21st Century.

Wish for 59th Birthday Candle BlowOut...

I surely wish that the Whole Flock of BirdFolk who hang out at the County Baths, would suddenly take it into their flock mentality, to take off from their powerlined bleachers, en masse, and do a shit-bombing raid on Victor's Roman head.

Since the last posting, AT&T has crashed my computer with an inappropriate software update, and I was forced to take a vacation from the Web for about six months. It was too hot a summer to drip sweat into the keyboard, anyway. Suffice it to say that We All had a very mellow summer just to spite the unusually continuous monsoon humidity.

Except for the above evidence of obvious collusion with CLM's Gestapo, and some persistent muck-racking by yokel, non-titular Tecopan yuppies, this Community's MayDay Crisis with the County has been resolved in the People's favor....

Trash collection will NOT be changed in the foreseeable future; the Library's cooling system has been repaired at Yokel Kenny's expense; and the Community Center's shopping shuttle service, has been upgraded under a new contract with a more professional service provder, so that Our New BRRRoohm will be flying to Pahrump banks, stores, and doctor appointments, as regularly scheduled.

We are having a Wonderfully Peaceful Summer.

TecopaSetiCommunique:

MAYDAY+17,2007 HEAR YE! HEAR YE!
ALL YE YOKEL PANIC ATTACKEES…

PLEASE CALM YOUR HYSTERICAL CRYING AND WHINING TO, AND ABOUT, OUR COUNTY WORKERS DURING THIS TIME OF COMMUNITY STRESS. NOBODY’S NEEDS ARE BEING ABANDONED, SO TAKE IT EASY ON KATHY AND SUSIE, WHO NEED YOUR SUPPORT AND UNDERSTANDING, NOT YOUR CRITICISM.
WE ARE FORTUNATE TO HAVE SUCH PROFESSIONAL CARE-GIVERS LOOKING AFTER OUR INTERSTS,
SO COUNT YOUR MANY BLESSINGS,
AND COMPLAIN TO THE COUNTY
ABOUT THE BROKEN AIR-CONDITIONER AT THE LIBRARY, THAT WILL RIGHTLY COST THE COUNTY A REPAIR OR REPLACEMENT BILL, TO BE PAID BY OUR TAXMONEY FROM THE COUNTY BUDGET…SOONEST!!! Nancy, the Librarian, has had to go home sick from the heat by 10AM most days, and has no time to swelter over the Community Computer, clearing backlogs and build-ups, etc., so, Internet Access is currently unavailable too,
due to just the FIRST hot slam of the door on Spring!!!
It’s already too hot to work so hard at frantic antics,
so EVERYBODY just COOL OUT,
at least until Our not-so-young-anymore, MachoGirlyBamBam’s back gets better!!! And by then, I would hope y’all learn
to quit acting like terrible two year olds,
squawking for attention.

Luv and Peas, Morgana Sage, Mayor, pro-tem, local4592
Sovereignty Township Steering Committee
at BlackDogJunction@ Yahoo.com,
on the Old Spanish Trail

RED ALERT!!!

S---O...S---!!!

County has deleted Social Services to Tecopa
from their Vegas Mafioso Racketeering Budget.
I want to call the FBI, Dept. of Homeland Security,
and FEMA for HELP!!!. How!!! except to blog it everywhere!!!
911 @92389 Severe Fire Hazard in the high desert bush!!!
and We, and Our Medicine Baths, are being held under
corporate seige, our supply lines have been choked off!!!
and we are not ambulatory enough to evacuate, even if we had somewhere else to go...
...ergo, We qualify for Direct Federal and State Assistance,
and expect Investigation and Prosecution of our yokel Racketeers,
who are trying to force Us HomeTowners to move elsewhere so "they" can gentrify the Hot Springs Neighborhoods, and get richer on Graft
by exploiting Our Well Water, as well as Our Bath Waters. And "they" are doing it with earmarked funding from Federal and State Social Service Programs.

RED ALERT!!! S---O...S---