Dear friends are warning me against returning.
It may be, that I have a choice, but, uninsulated by the Status of Forces agreement, incompetent in the language and laws of the land, and compelled by circumstance to cut the political umbilical cord which connects cg to free housing, utilities, and a kind of allowance against the death-spiral of the dollar (suppressed by our politics: http://globaleconomicanalysis.blogspot.com/, thanks Cousin Frank!), we need to go back to what we know.
Or move to Costa Rica, whatever.
Researching the neighborhood I am thinking of moving to, Travis Heights in Austin, I find that someone I knew in high school was stabbed to death in a parking lot on the east side of the highway there, in June 2006. Schoolchildren found his body in the morning. I wonder, if he would have wanted to be a warning. Perhaps, he would have. I remember some author's mantra, if you can't be a good example, at least be a terrible warning.
I knew his sister, we worked together in high school. I knew he was a performer, but I had never seen him work. He dropped out of school, to become a juggler.
I used to work in the biggest theater in town, the Americana. It was surreal, not just because we were all young and experimenting with everything... well, I wasn't, chemically anyway. My grip on reality has always been slippery enough, without loosening it further with any kind of psychoactive WD40.
I hadn't thought about the guy since last I saw him, had never connected him with the Esther's Follies performances, and his little sister was just, like, oh, he does stuff... Shelly, I'm so sorry. His name was, is "Ryder" Red Ryder, Warren Schwarz. Sorry I am so late in my salute. Sorry I never saw him "do his thing" in person. Watched it on YouTube. You know, I used to wonder why he wore a top hat in school... figured he had a reason, thought it was cool.
We want to think well of the departed, but I think this guy is more than that. He made his mistakes, he was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, seen by the wrong person in the wrong circumstance. There's very little defense anyone can make use of, once these variables are tipped. I think he would have wanted to be an example. He was a good guy, and never meant to do harm. It's just hard to get past personal demons.. sometimes they win. Did I say I was sorry? It's a pitiful mantra, but it's all I've got.
Meanwhile, I feel now, like I'm stepping over the bones of the past, to come home. I've warned my ex, and we are having a nice email conversation. He is a great and generous person, and I would recommend him to anyone who could do right by him.
When you don't exactly burn your bridges, but you don't take time to put them out either, it's a delicate negotiation, to come back home. Unapologetic Dixie Chix fan that I am, just listen to Long Way Home and you'll get the way I've been on.
Dear friends have warned me against most of the things I have held, and will hold dear, in my life.
You'll just have to keep loving me, when I nod, give you a hug, and go do whateverthatstupidthing was that worried you so much, understand that even I don't understand the path I'm on. How can I? Women in budo don't exactly have a blazed trail to follow.
When Opportunity calls me home, there must be something there for me to do.
I ended up over here, and, while I am no christian, I have tried to be an instrument of peace, deep in the entrails of war. I have never loved a fight so much, as what I have had, here.
With my mate by my side, I have raked over coals many comfortable bureaucrats who would rather hold down a chair, than benefit the people who pay their salary.
I have taken in the stragglers the medical community would, well, medicate out of existence, and made them walk again. Literally. I make soldiers who would be useless, on medication, function.
Throw that away, if you have the IQ of a stapler. Contact me, otherwise.
Brother Peter, brother Francis, you know I have work here, to do. You know I will make myself mobile and available to those who call out for laying on of hands in a particularly effective manner, to keep the Word (of budo) alive.
Through it, around it, and by my own inability to pay attention to whatever the damnfool StatQuo thinks it's on about, maybe we can educate some folks still able to Pay Attention.
Ryder, I took those Texas Employment Tests, and they said I would excel at Sleight of Hand.
You'd love, where I took that joke.
Right up their noses.