I went Back to Austin/and my city was gone

now back in oz for winter visit and memorials for departed beloveds Bluestar and Dorothy Lay. I was sitting in the new sushi-go-round cafe watching the little plates going by like an endless train of possibilities and my friend said"It's like Disneyland has taken over Austin." even in the (formerly) middle-class neighborhood of St Johns the old is giving way to the new and shiny and bright and oh so precious NOW of a consumer dream. There is a new condo complex going up at the corner of St Johns and Guadalupe with (low-rent) options of one bedroom for $150,000 or 2 bedroom(certainly more luxe) for $400,000. I felt like Chrissy Hynde looking at Cleveland"My city was gone".I feel the loss of the Austin I cherished for 40 years and see the bright new metroplex beckoning me: and for a price I can join right in. OH I can hardly wait to get back to the Organ Mountains.Namaste,Brooksie
 

6/26
now who put the poison pen in this maniac's paw, giving him permission to spread his bile, treating others with contempt and fear?
whose blessing gave him a feeling of ease, ensuring a golden wreath of appreciation, placing him above the poor strugglers?
why let the way he sees things rule, enthroning his humanity in a bubble, preventing any real contact from occurring?
how am i so convinced he's not me, buffing my nails until they gleam, filing the points to penetrate his ego?
when compassion costs more than hatred, cheapening interactions into sound bites; when the way i appear is taken as real, allowing masks to replace hearts; when a teacher owns a seaside fortress, fencing himself away from the lepers... 
who says that nothing is sacrosanct; whose life entitles him to more; why bother to click on "reject"; 
how long can i hold onto my disgust, when it tastes just like my own mouth? 

now i am losing patience. i thought that i could replace it with understanding but i feel that just knowing why is never going to be enough. i sit and watch the circus that is social media and i wish that someone would just really reach out, ask to meet face-to-face or even just share who they are, not just what they think about what is going on(real or not?) in the world they see reflected in the light of their screen. i guess it's just that i am feeling alone. i keep hearing Pink Floyd asking "Is there anybody in there?" yes. keep asking, but not on the facebook, please.namaste

5/17/18 -4 the living-
now i sat and watched her go to death. she looked surprised and then relieved. i kissed her cheek and closed her eyes; i cried a bit and then i sang--i sang a hymn she loved to hear, and then i danced around the room because at last we both were free, she from her empty nest, me from my too-full planning.
i made the calls, the hearse arrived. they let me wash her face and hands, and took her off to fix her hair and prepare for one last matinee.
some time has past, five years and more. i've lost more kin and lovers, too. now that i know no fear no death, i move between the worlds at peace, and try to breathe in all i can, and then release it all again, in hopes of finding rest and peace by dying all the way at last.
my mom and dad are gone away, my husband and my brothers, too. i see them in the rising moon; i feel their love inside myself, and all is well and all is well, and all they were is here within my heart, my art, my way of life:  no need to wish for any more. 

now is day 39 in las cruces: watching Queer Eye makeover of a 57-year-old Georgia bear. Just the kind of guy i love to love, straight but flexible and so hungry to change, to blossom. and he does. Those five queens take him and polish him, bringing out his sweet playfulness, rebuilding his self-esteem, re-decorating his life without dishonoring him. "We grow up and want to find love.We are all the same in that way." And he does, not just with ex-wife #3 and with the faerie godmothers who work with him but with himself. He sees himself as they see him, lovable, worthy, sexy, brave--this is small town Georgia good old boy here, hugging gay guys, crying with them out of joy. 
i cried too, wishing all those straight men (and gay ones, too) could just ease up and be themselves, whatever that means. I see that in myself, transforming and becoming and relaxing into my  64-year-old self. 

aa saves the day

now sitting in a cafe talking with friends, wondering about the end of this year and the dilemma of life in america now. what can be done? all around is despair and anger and hatred, flames fanned by a media that insists on disaster and chaos. we decided that our nation is obviously in the throes of addiction and alcoholism, as evidenced by the results of greed, fear, and hubris, all things that recovering people recognize as a part of the disease of addiction. so perhaps what america needs is an intervention leading to addressing the spiritual malady that would wreak havoc on all who love her. there are some principles that might help: love and tolerance is our code; lean on the help of a higher power that you can live with; focus on helping others without desire for reward; acceptance is the key; honesty, openmindedness and willingness are the tools;and perhaps most importantly don't take yourselves so damned seriously. it has worked for millions to restore us to sanity...can it work for a whole nation of zombies? namaste,brooks

winterset

yesterday was fog and then rain and then wind and then sleet and then snow and then sun and then snow and then a snow-bow and then that western mesa sunset that paints all red and orange and purple, not pastel like in the east but vivid colour. now is winter on the high plains, in portales. i finished with oz one more time, wished it well and fled to my retreat, new mexico. ah tejas i gave you my best but... well you who dwell under the thumb of the wheelchaired menace know who you are. las cruces beckons...come see me there in the new year. gay solstice to you all,brooks