On Loyalty

My loyalty lay in warm safe beds within the walls of the home I grew up in. Within a home and a house a score of minutes a way, a half a day’s journey. My ideals are the virtues and universal lessons I learned in Sunday school, at home, in stories and my own witnessed experiences of human value, all value, any value, true value.

I love this nation, it is my home. Yet its borders are less real than the walls of my home, the room where I sleep. A nation is as real and as fragile as the dusty cobwebs unswept from attic eaves. People are real. Hunger is real. Pain is real. Joy is real. Blood is real, and it stains.

What man has a right to tell another how to live his life? Does not this government, this long ago chosen form of political dictation, application, and function, does it not belong to us? It is ours by our will, and our will alone. This is a nation of the people, by the people, and is supposed to be for the people, not the persons, the few, the fiscal minority, who wield the majority, the capital, the power, the means and the command.

Beware the pugilists, the angry, the hate filled, the wild eyes, the smirking plutocrat, the war hawks, the fear mongers, the finger pointers, the so called patriots. Point a finger away so none look at the legal criminals. Make the decent fear so they will pay the thieves. Drive the young into bloodlust so they will spear themselves on the enemy’s barbs and shrapnel. Keep the plebes distracted so they see nothing of the crass evil around them.

Yet we sleep soundly, sometimes that sleep disturbed the media fed image of a horrific act of terror, more scared of lightning strikes and plane crashes than homicide or alcohol ridden car wrecks.

Drive them into fear and frenzy, point determinedly out where the evil is with catch phrases and words. Wave the banners and pins of loyalty, bandwagon propaganda, fear of not being in the group, being good.

Does the devil appear to you in hooves and horns?

What is more evil, a fiend committing sins among the wicked, or a good man mislead into harming another good man?

Is the righteous path easy or obvious?

Hate, violence and evil: the hurting hand, is as contagious as the helping hand that breeds gratitude, generosity, mutual respect: peace.

I challenge those who espouse to live fervently by the New Testament and His teachings, to actually practice them. You so called “Christians,” who whoop fear and hate of the other, the enemy. And to the so called “Muslims,” who distort holy texts into violence and destruction, hell does not discriminate hypocrites and murderers of one faith from another.

Yo Voté

I just a got a nifty little gift from my older sister who dwells in Buffalo. I'm sure most of you have seen those yellow LIVESTRONG wristbands promoted by Lance Armstrong to support research for cancer. Well, my sister sent my father and myself black wristbands that say I DID NOT VOTE 4 BUSH. Now the black wristbands were eerily reminiscent of Italian fascist black armbands, but the message won me over. She also included matching silver on black background bumper stickers for us. This thrilled me when I walked into my parent's house and found them. I found it appropriate and a little divisive, but very much me. The website for these nick knacks is www.nationdivided.com. Pretty true label in many ways.

I recently won a poetry contest for a poem entitled, "A House Divided," which contains certain remarks regarding the current state of the nation. I wrote it while I was in Europe prior to the 2004 election(returning specifically in time to vote). I got a lot of flack for my president, for whom I did not vote last time, either. But there were no lynch mobs waiting for me at international airports, just a lot of honestly curious and at least mildly intellectual persons whom genuinely wanted to know, what the hell the rest of us here in the States are smoking. I did my best to try and explain and at times defend myself and my fellow citizens. After all, as a public we are ultimately responsible for each other whether we like it or not, that's part of the deal when we accept all the freedoms and luxuries that come with our style of government and commerce.
Now, there are plenty of people who's politics I don't like, and plenty of them would label me insane as I would dub them fascist. But that’s fine, because we are damn lucky in this country to even have the freedom to argue over such things. As a nation we've always been divided. It’s always been us and them abroad, and back home. Whether its North and South, Black and White, Conservative or Liberal, or now Red States vs. Blue States, we've had plenty of aggressive political animosity, and healthy (sometimes ugly) competition. We need that; it keeps the ball rolling. Now, we don't need too much of it, because then we'll end up with a prime minister, who isn't even a publicly elected official, to play the role of bandleader in congress. Cooperation is just as required as competition. After all, if as a species we'd been too competitive with each other, well, we wouldn’t likely be around. Striking a healthy balance is not only the most beneficial way, but also necessary for survival. So while I dislike Bush and his cronies almost as much as I distrust them, I still respect their right to lawfully shape the direction of this country through policy and constitutionally sound legislation.

While it’s the greatest endeavor to work towards, harmony between individuals and demographics in our democratic republic is a long ways a way.

A house divided cannot stand—

However, a house united may still have many kinds of rooms and individual boarders that dwell within.

First there was the WORD

Thanks for humoring me. Ginger, thanks for the idea, and for getting me hooked on Damien Rice, and all those other things I owe you for.

So I'm 25, live in Baltimore, am a college graduate and according to Time, a "twixter." That lable makes me think of the old "Oh yeah..." Twix commercials from back in the 80's, you know, the song from Ferris Buller's Day Off, no real words just "Oh yeah . . . chick-a chick-ahhh . . ." very rad for back then. Wow, isn't it nuts? Now 99.1 is on 105.7 and 90's music is getting played on classic rock stations? Yes my friends, that strange and terrible thing called time is continuing its relentless march and we are getting older. But, you won't hear me bitch. I mean, did anyone really enjoy being a teenager? If those were the best days of your life, well, most of your brain cells probably went out with MC Hammer and Seinfield. Does anyone else enjoy this whole aging thing? I for one love being 25. I'll admit 26 sounds scary, but hell, even that's younger than 30. Remember when you thought 23 was old?

I am an unemployed traveling mooching writer. Bohemian? Absolutely. An asthete? 100%. I've held more jobs than anyone I know my age, and quite a few older than myself. I've been a janitor, fry cook, painter's helper, construction worker, English teacher, telemarketer, wrestling coach, gourmet cook, gas station cashier, pizza boy, camp counselor, kitchen manager, professional political activivist (see telemarketer), stock boy in a warehouse, cotton candy vendor at a zoo, computer lab manager, waiter, geriatric food specialist, bartender, mall kiosk calender seller, caterer, editor, dishwasher, book seller, grill cook, journalist, and TEFL teacher in Rome.

I've been from one end of I-95 to the other, from Fort Kent Maine to the Florida Keys. I've been to Los Angeles once and was not impressed. I've been to Rome where I ate pizza with my uncle who lives in Los Angeles, and was impressed. I fell in love with Venice and slept covertly in an all girl hostel run illicitly by a small Chinese woman fleeing at dawn through the six inches of water covering the cities cobble stone "streets." I've seen true poverty and true happiness. I've seen a little wealth, and a lot of ugliness. I've seen beauty that defies words, film, or canvass.

I am a brother, a son, a friend, a mentor, a teacher, a student, and sometimes a lover.

I own a black lab runt with one eye named Othello.

I have scars.

Horses don't like me.

But children do.

I am Dan Brown.

Nice to meet you.