Google: An Uneasy Alliance

I'm a researcher at heart, and search engines on the internet have permitted access to millions of pieces of information that even 20 years ago would have taken weeks to research. Often, in the middle of an on-line conversation, I'll multi-task with several open windows, and invariably something will require clarification.

I've learned the hard way to bookmark sites that have multiple uses, such as the Urban Dictionary. If someone mentions meat spin or pink socks, you might blindly type this in the search window and click on a Google link. If you follow this instinct, your innocence is not only in jeopardy, it's forever compromised. The Urban Dictionary, however, alerts you as to what to expect and the choice to click on a subsequent link goes with you to purgatory.

I do not recommend clicking on the links mentioned -- in fact, they are a cautionary tale. Some links clicked in innocence haunt you forever, or at least it seems to take forever before you feel cleansed again no matter the spyware, adware, or virus protection software product you use.

Don't forget to clean out your computer's history drop-down either -- your fourteen-year-old grandson uses it as a shortcut to get to his Star Trek games page. You might notice that nothing in this article is hyper-linked except the Google logo. So, tag, you're it!

The Tattoo as Art?

According to vanishing tattoo.com: From the early 1990's, there has been a tremendous increase in the popularity of tattooing among the general public in North America and Europe, a trend that has since spread around the world. Anyone who has taken even a cursory glance at the mainstream media during the past decade could easily come away with the impression that the current popular interest in tattoos and other forms of body modification, has arisen out of a cultural void and that there is scant evidence to suggest where the roots of the resurgence might lie. In point of fact, nothing could be further from the truth. Tattoos have had a rich and colourful history in western popular culture for the better part of two centuries and nowhere is this better illustrated than by the rather extraordinary number of historical figures and modern day celebrities who, have sported or currently have body art.

As with most cultural and artistic styles and trends, tattoos and tattooing have weathered various cycles of popularity, waxing and waning over the years, but never disappearing and never far from the public's imagination. Tattoos have long been associated with sailors and seamen and military personnel, but did you know that European Royalty were the first well-known members of society, the first celebrities so to speak, to spur an interest in tattoos and body art?

In the late nineteenth century many of the crowned heads of Europe wore their tattoos with pride. And they influenced many members of their respective aristocracies to get "exotic" body art. It was a topic that caused quite a stir in the popular press of the day.

Today, tattoos and tattooing continue to take on an increasingly larger, ever more visible role in today's mainstream pop culture. Now you see all kinds of tattooed celebrities, both men and women; tattooed rock stars, movie stars with tattoos, sports stars sporting ink, even lots of elite super models proudly displaying their body art.

Formerly known primarily to the people who wore body tattoos, the artists themselves have finally been recognized on a scale heretofore unknown, as witnessed by the popularity of such television shows as Miami Ink, and Inked, which is based in Las Vegas.

Having never been a proponent of desecrating one's own body, I now find myself fascinated with this form of self expression. It's not that I've suddenly developed a desire to place a tattoo anywhere on my person, but looking at the picture of Tommy Lee above, how could anyone say that's not art. Your mileage may vary, of course.

After Neruda

Suddenly, everything is a woman.

The way a street lamp curves
at the edge of a dark street,
or an orchid blooms in an empty room
patient for destruction, beautiful as a white slip
floating in the wrecking ball’s wake.

You hear the sea in everything,
its great bell-like waves sounding
deep in your anxious sleep, moving invisibly
by your ears with each passing car.

Light takes on a strange quality,
like the once-familiar scent of women
you have known or the texture of old bus tokens,
worn smooth in pockets, no longer in currency.

You want to make love
in a language you do not know,
or write prayers between the lines
of old dollar bills given to strangers.

You caress the backs of pews,
pray to unknown gods you have witnessed
from your window, their half-closed eyes
flashing in the distance, like lighthouses in a storm.

In the kitchen, you surround yourself
with apples, lemons, and a tomato.
Arranging them in silence, you can sense
her presence just beneath the skin.

When you hold the tomato to your ear
you can hear her breathing in ragged sighs,
like a ship heaving against the tide.

When you press it to your lips,
you can still taste the unwashed salt of sorrow.

©2004 Neil Aitken.
First published in Beyond the Valley of Contemporary Poets 2004
(Used with the kind permission of the author)

Happy New Year!

Celtic Spirals :

When early man observed the beauty of nature's spirals its not surprising that it would become a potent symbol for creation and growth. It is the only provable decorative motif used in Christian Celtic art to have its roots in the preceding pagan period, the best examples are found on stone monuments such as Newgrange, in Ireland.

In the Neolithic world, passing a spiral barrier (like the entrance stone to Newgrange in Ireland) the initiate is led into an inner sanctuary that was the necessary passport in the journey of the sacred dance, through the labyrinth to the sacred realms beyond the centre. At the centre, there is complete balance: the point where Heaven and Earth are joined.

Masks

One day, long before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and all my masks were stolen, the seven masks I have fashioned and worn in seven lives. I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting, “Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves.” And when I reached the marketplace...I looked up...the sun kissed my own naked face for the first time. For the first time my own naked face and my soul were inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more.”
The Madman, Kahlil Gibran.

As far back as the time of cavemen, it's likely that the mask has been part of our daily ritual... one face for stalking prey, one for dragging the little woman off to the cave, and another around the campfire with the boys, juggling for bragging rights.

If you're a woman, your closet is filled with masks... there's the professional mask, the devoted mommy mask, the lover mask, as well as masks for the smart-ass, the whip-cracker, the meek or powerful face, along with a myriad of others.

How does the mask differ from facets of personality, you might ask. Well, I asked... you might very well not give a shit, but something happened that made me want to take a closer look at the faces I wear.

As a middle child, I wore the mask of pleaser... don't shit disturb, get only A's, do the chores, and maybe, just maybe, someone might notice you were there. When, at 17, I realized that mask wasn't working, I replaced it with the mask of strength and independence... a charming facade that worked throughout my professional career and until my children were grown.

My personality is hidden behind each of the masks I choose to wear in public. I'm stubborn, close to being anti-social, do not suffer fools gladly, and have learned that I'm most comfortable with my own company, with few exceptions over the course of a lifetime. I have a mask to cover each of these flawed personality traits, and it's with rare exception that I forget to don it in a timely fashion. Does anyone know me... not likely. Do I care? Sometimes I care very much.

And then there's the mask of the Internet... the modern day horror story!

The F Word

.
Fuck is an English word which, when used literally as a verb, means "to engage in sexual intercourse". It is generally considered to be an offensive profanity.

Scores of theories have been written on the etymology and the use of the F word as a verb (transitive and intransitive), but also as a noun, interjection, and, occasionally, as an expletive infix.

My relationship with Fuck started as an occasional flirtation, which over the course of a lifetime has grown into a full blown love affair. I love ladies who use fuck cleverly -- for punch and power and that old standby, wit -- and because sometimes no other word will do. If every second word is fuck, then chances are you're talking to an asshole. Overuse breeds contempt and the chance that everyone will know you're trailer trash.

If you click on a few of the links within this blog, you'll find some fucking beautiful ladies, each of whom has grasped the various and timely ways of using fuck. Don't be fooled by the occasional bastardization such as F'in, F**k, or just plain F (as in WTF). You're looking at the real deal.

And that's all I have to say about fuck.

I've Been Dying

(Shadow Talk)

I'm like a calico who licks her body clean
to heal festered wounds gleaned at play
in dangerous neighbourhoods. I've been dying
by degrees, measured on some scale
calibrated in a heaven not ready to receive me.
So many lives expended just playing the odds.

It's not odd that I, and this new-found god within me,
shamelessly probe the shadows for a guide
to our own divinity.
Alone in their beauty, jaded moons tear
the sky and we watch, confused at the fury
of those who sit in judgment.
Should I take flight from messiahs
who are not perfect? I think not. I worship instead
perfection revealed in brilliant back-light, and learn.
I've been dying by degrees and you don't scare me,
shadow player. A kernel cast on your own wind,
you chance to land in a field, fertile and waiting
for your blessing. Fly on, so I may languish
here awhile in my fool's nirvana.

I have a real god to deal with darkness.
We don't need you. She, and I, have a way
of landing on our tongue-washed feet.

© H. Long