Saturday, March 24, 2007

Innocent Weapons: a Destructive Short Circuit in Conciousness Evolution

Last night, I couldn't fall asleep. I tried everything...you know, tea, yoga, deep breathing, watching TV, reading, counting my remaining civil rights (doesn't take very long lately) but nothing worked. my mind wouldn't sleep, and my body was having no luck reasoning with it.
I knew why. Earlier that day I had been watching a documentary about North Korea. What I saw had shocked me out of a good measure of my optimism about humanity. Pride and fear had killed so many people, so many children. Aid workers were banished, and 3 million people died of starvation. The most painful facet in this cruel window was yet to be revealed; 40 percent of North Korean children today are severely malnourished. I think that we sometimes gloss over this concept in our heads, but when was the last time you were really hungry, so hungry that you couldn't think, so exhausted that you couldn't stand up, so short tempered and low on energy that people fled your presence? It's not a good feeling, is it? Most of us never experience this feeling, and if we do, it is not on a daily basis, but once in a while when we forget to eat, are sick with the flu, or perhaps even just run out of money for a few days.
These children in Korea were so thin they couldn't lift their arms above their heads some could only limp slowly along-their legs are bowed, and their faces shrunken. Most are not fully dressed, none have shoes, and their hair has ceased to grow. They are perpetually cold, perpetually hungry, and surrounded by adults who are the same way, and can offer little or no comfort to their children. They didn't forget to eat. They are denied sustenance by a government who seems not to see the huge, staring eyes of the children, hopeless with privation, yet so hungry they look as if they could eat the whole world. They would gladly do anything, farm, work, hunt for food-but there isn't anything there. An ironclad ban on imports and international humanitarian aid denies these malformed children, the "Stunted Generation" any chance at life or a future-yet Kim Jong Il is know for his personal collections of expensive imported art and liquor. He eats like a king while in the country he is supposed to care for, children in the streets of North Korea fight over kernels of corn in cow dung.
As the tears on my face traced a path to my clenched fists, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Was it too monstrous to be true? Do people really do things like this?
Interestingly enough, the next video answered my question. It was three videos of US soldiers in Iraq, one where they punish children for a practical joke by beating them with weapons and kicking the barefoot children with their steel toed boots. The second video showed soldiers on US tank taunting children running behind it with a bottle of water. Temperatures in Iraq in can reach 130 degrees or more, and in poor regions, water is scarce and must be transported long distances. The children run as fast as they can, trying to catch up so they can have some of the water, while the soldiers laugh and taunt them. They drive away, and never give them any water. The third video shows 3 US soldiers throwing rocks at an old stray dog. As it runs away, they shoot it in the foot. Unlike my hometown, this town does not have the resources to pay for medical or rescue centers for strays...and so the soldiers have doomed the dog to a slow, torturous death by infection, starvation, thirst and sun exposure, whichever kills her first. The whole time, they laugh, very entertained. Never once does one of them question their right to abuse and hurt the weak, children, stray animals, anyone they feel superior to.
It tortured my thoughts all night, I never slept. I have since begun to wonder how long we have all been asleep, allowing greed and brute force to alter our concept of human rights, and our willingness to defend what we know is right.
I feel ashamed to use the colloquialism "I'm starving" to describe my own hunger anymore, and ashamed of any solider who would abuse children and animals and then pretend to be on a mission to help others. The reason people get away with it? We aren't watching. We're too busy running in the hamster wheel of capitalism, making money, paying off debt, racking up more, buying newer and bigger things, watching TV, following the love lives of celebrities and the fictional crimes of court TV. Corporate fortunes weren't made by accident-credit cards and mortgages have given America no time to think, only time to work for the stuff-they have given us consumer ADD, and then obligated us to pay into it for the rest of our lives. Our consent...
has been manufactured.
Next time you say in response to a diatribe like this one, "the world is too big" and "what can I be expected to do about it"
pat yourself on the back for being smart-the first part of your statement is absolutely correct.
That being said, the second part is easy-by buying from local businesses, you have already made a difference. You have just removed your support for outsourcing and child labor.
There so much you can do by asking a little less, wanting a little less, caring a little more where your money goes.
give it some thought.

Posted by Green Scribe at 3:09 PM

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

I think we are all equal and should be free...and I'm sorry?

The funniest thing about the concept of freedom is how closely related this concept is with self. Freedom of other people is abstract, in a purely denotational sense. And yet, there are many of us, all over the planet, united by principle with those we have never met in saying that exploitation of the weak and abuse of power is wrong. Peroid. It doesn't matter why, and ephemeral and complex economic justifications have not made this a moral way of life, regardless of which billionaire stands to lose a lot of stock if his filthy corporation actually paid their workers a living wage: the reason principles, and philosophy, and books, for that matter, exist. The population of earth is so large that we cannot hope to realistically even try to care for each person on a personal level. But when we begin to cross the line into feeling untouched by their deaths, we should be worried. About ourselves, and about humanity's future as a whole, when you consider that intraspeciatic bonds are the last ones to break before a species dies out-often in desperation due to lack of food, they eat each other in the end (if you don't believe me, see the history of dinosaurs). If you doubt that we are that close to being complete animals, think again. We have made the leap to sacrificing each other based upon skin hues, dialects, religious beliefs...these aren't even the defensible reasons a lion, for instance, has in killing-the lion 'promises to eat all of his killings' (Beatrice, Much Ado About Nothing).
Most ironically of all, the corporate will that pollutes the planet, they see themselves as the most advanced form of humanity, they are rich and powerful in an abstract credit and trade system...yet I've never even met a cat who shits in its own backyard...and doesn't at least bury it. The people of the land are labeled as backward, simple ( as thought this were an insult-oh, to be simple in the true sense of the word) but perhaps they have had it right all along-we need communities, we need each other, we need food, and water, and air, and imagination and love and family. No natural urge in me wants or needs money. In fact, the thought of it does nothing so much as make me immediately tense and angry, even sick. Society is at a crossroads-the thinking, the permission we give ourselves to be, has to be renovated-personally, I'm enormously exited...I've been waiting my whole life for this wave of consciousness to land.
so next time you are heckled for being pro environment and pro peace, don't mindlessly consent to "everyone's right to their beliefs" if the main point of those beliefs is to negatively attack
others, (and yes, its still ok to flip off Hummer drivers) A lack of stewardship and thought is killing your home planet-and you don't have to like it!

Posted by Green Scribe at 4:21 PM

Monday, March 5, 2007

A loss...and this vague feeling of being alone in millions

Over 28 years on earth, and I've been able to figure out very few useful things. But one is the indisputable fact that you can't sit awake every night, trying to understand why the world inspires you to mourn for it. Is it because no single one among us has the capacity to truly understand everyone on the earth? Is it because we all singly know the path to peace, but together effect only death in the struggle with our own egos? Is it because the assholes in little tippy meter rovers keep mindlessly giving out tickets, or because we hate the society that accepts the price of money and autonomy to justify its very existence at the curb of a street that used to be a quiet meadow
unsullied by the poisons of modern industry?
It isn't because human beings don't know right from wrong that makes war so horrible. Quite to the contrary, it is because they do know-and lie with all their might about it in order to achieve ends which by the very nature of their getting must be rendered hollow..."freedom" at the only cost higher than its true counterpart, life.
I feel often and strongly that I am not wrong to look for solidarity and kindness in other people, that we do all at some level feel our human ties. Lately, I wonder if we can lose those too, just as we lost our connection with the land, with the animals, with the pleasure and joy of life in the real. Life in the abstract measures happiness too: $$$$$$$$$$$$$$
Do you ever experience the disturbing phenomenon of looking out over a sea pf people, and suddenly you feel-nothing-. You make no connections, you have no curiosoty, the very magnitude of the sea before you renders you numb. its all too much. you focus. You focus on your objective, to stay sane, to save time, you tune them out...they all disappear. This makes you feel slightly ashamed, slightly cold, and you wonder with a secret twinge if you are in fact as much of a humanitarian as you think you are-these, and all people in the world, are who you work to save from Global Warming. yet, you look out and feel....nothing. Just as mindless as the thrill poachers feel after killing an endangered animal, like Hummer drivers look at the death count in Iraq with all the emotion of a spider sucking the last drops of blood from a fly.
I am not for the artificial life, not I.
I want to wake up and feel that breath, that pulse of consciousness flowing through the veins of thought, the brightest and best part of me, the part that knows how amazing we are, that we can still find our buried connections with our earth and eachother.

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Posted by Green Scribe at 11:06 PM

Food, not Imperialism

This recipe blog is dedicated to 2 things. One, delicious vegetarian and vegan cuisine, but more importantly, this is a guide to help you protest global injustice destruction of the environment in a very unique way-by EATING!
I love food, and every recipe is created with great attention to flavor, fresh, healthy ingredients and delicious new fusion ideas. If you have a recipe you'd like to add, please send it along, it will appear with your name and caption.
Many of us have jobs, school and families fighting for our attention every day. We wish we could do more activism in our communities, but we just don't have time. Yay for capitalism. So, next time you shop for groceries-tell the corporations to kiss your...donkey.
Go to your local co-op! All the ingredients in these recipes are organically grown, pesticide free and usually local, too. You can contribute to the economical health of your local business community, environment and reduce your corporate spending in one stop. And the best part?
Co-op foods are ethically priced! No expensive health food store necessary. No kidding. Often, the locality of co-op products helps them keep prices down in the shopper friendly (and speaking for myself at least, student friendly) budget range.
Your local farmer's market has organic, locally grown produce-you can't beat it for freshness and quality!
Plus, this food is healthier, and people everywhere who make the organic, no meat or wild caught fish only switch lose weight, are motivated to exercise and get outdoors, and meet other people much like themselves in the process, and often learn to grow their own organic garden produce into the bargain!
So, why aren't you doing it yet? I'm saving money, losing weight, and feeling good about every penny I spend when I shop for food.
Be good to yourself, your community and the environment-shop local organic!! You will feel sooooooo good, I promise! Join the growing community of world wide food activists, and make a difference-put your money where your mouth is-in your local community!

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Posted by Green Scribe at 9:05 PM

Couscous, asparagus and portabello guts

Ingredients:

Fresh:
asparagus
portabello mushroom scooping from stuffed mushroom recipe/or diced portabellos
(baby brown bellas can sub.)
garlic bulb
lemon juice
chopped fresh basil

From the pantry:
whole wheat couscous
sun dried tomatoes in olive oil
balsamic vinegar
sea salt
extra virgin olive oil
black pepper
dried bay leaf
whole cloves

Directions:
heat water equal to cup measurement of couscous desired to boiling
add couscous, turn off heat, cover and let steam five minutes
chop/grate garlic,
heat a few tablespoons of olive oil in a large wok. Add grated garlic, bay leaf and whole cloves, sautee 3 minutes over high heat-remove cloves and bay leaf.
chop asparagus (julienne cut, diagonal thin slices) and soak with lemon juice
add to wok
sautee 5 minutes
add portabello guts
sautee 2 minutes
add sun dried tomatos until heated
add balsamic vinegar, sea salt and black pepper to taste
serve over hot couscous

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Posted by Green Scribe at 8:45 PM

Portabello Pontoons

Ingredients:
Fresh:
large Portablello mushrooms
cherry tomatoes
lemon juice
2 garlic cloves

Refrigerated:
grated parmesan
grated jack cheese

From the pantry:
black pepper
Mediterranean olives in oil
sea salt

directions:
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F
bake in glass dish or baking sheet covered in tinfoil
Wash portabalellos, rubbing off dirt with thumbs
scoop out the centers with a spoon, leaving enough of a base (about 1/2 ") to hold the stuffing in
(dice and reserve the scooped mushroom centers for couscous recipe)
press/grate garlic bulbs and spread thin to aerate 5 min. (anti-oxidant power!)
cut cherry tomatoes into quarters, spray with lemon juice
dice (and pit if necessary) olives
optional ingredient: artichoke anti pasta spread/diced cooked artichoke in olive oil can sub.
grate jack cheese
grate Parmesan cheese

spread grated jack cheese on the bottom of the portabellos
mix together olives, tomatoes, garlic, and anti pasta spread, sprinkle with black pepper and sea salt
spread over jack cheese
sprinkle with grated Parmesan

Bake until filling is bubbly and cheese has begun to brown

serve warm

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Posted by Green Scribe at 8:10 PM

Thursday, March 1, 2007

Farewell To Night Vision

This is a tiny snapshot in a larger story. If you like the style, or have any suggestions/knowledge of amnesia, or just have anything to say in general-post it please!
thanks, enjoy.


Thin lines of rusty brown gleamed ugly smiles over the white half moons of my fingernails. Mom would be disgusted if she saw. At least, that's what moms do, that's what my mom would say, wouldn't she? Of course, of course, magazines, they never lie. Think what she'd say about this matted hair looking more like a racoon caught in a papermill, these rigamortized jeans reeking of piss and Old English. Giggles rise in my throat at the image of a Donna Reid with my nose, and bifocals-screaming at me to "straighten up". The other day I realized with amazement that some time I had sex once-I read in Hustler about hymens, and so I checked-I don't have one. I wonder if I had an orgasm...or if I cried myself to sleep, like the women on TV because I couldn't have one?
I want a fucking cigarette. I want it so bad I am scouring the parking lot for change...no luck so far, the winos are too quick for me. Though I'm not sure what my name is, or why I can't remember having one, it doesn't seem to be an impediment around here.
In fact, if you ask the local oinks, my name is "move along", or "no sleeping here". Every once in a while they change it up to "hand over the smack", but it's been awhile since I had any to hand over...
Anyway, here I am. No one knows me-and that includes me. Sure, it doesn't make any sense-but somehow that doesn't stop the clock, so "sense" must be pretty difficult to make in this vile gray meat locker-for as far as I can see, thats' what this place looks like. It varies only by graffitti, trash and neon-the frantic reds, blues and greens of capitalism washing eerily over it own pimpled underbelly, screaming for cash-just like the rest of us. Poor saps. Swarming the streets, just another mess of vipers on the head of Medusa and the heels of humankind. The others are jealous...they tell me amnesia is like cold beer, like sex with underwear models, like a bag of shit that never runs low...they want to cut the top off of my head, and pilfer "it". If they thought they could, they would. Though they keep telling me how smart I am-smart. So smart I can't remember my own name-but I know things, so many other things, and have no clue how I came to learn them. Funny how motivation is just a word when you're anonymous-no one expects much when they can't pin you down with the anvil of identity. Someday mine might fall on my head. It might. But I doubt it.
The crud and crust and stench of overhumanitized alleys and tenaments eats me, a close cousin to cancer. I wonder who will get my bones-maybe the winos will make a house of them-at least that way, I'd be good for something.
Looking in windows at my reflection, it smacks of bad movies to wonder WHO I am...but that is how it stands. I play it how it lies, in a rancid alley of dead cats and rotting sandwhich rinds, in a colorless wasteland that used to be-me?
Help me-I need something very small. I need to know my name. Help me.
If you don't, soon I won't care enough to find out. But if I was someone of note-there might be something in it for you. Something you wouldn't have to languish under garish neon for. Oh well. All I really know is, I used to be a person. Somehow, I feel certain of it.

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Posted by Green Scribe at 2:25 PM