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“Hematic Patterning. Robert, any ideas?”
I look at her blankly. She expects a response.
“No, no idea. ” There is a triumph in her eyes.
“WEll it’ s all over the chapter,” she states as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Hematic Patterning. Blood on the wall, in streaks, splattered across porous bricks.
That can’t be it.
Ah. She meant ‘Thematic Patterning’.
GG.
297
I’m learning how to love
while keeping my prescribed
wine glasses at home.
Though 70% of our bodies
are water, I will not quantify
how into you I am with lakes
and rivers; here, the oceans
are barren.
I’m glad you do not ask
where are all the love poems;
you are gossip I share
with mirrors alone.
— “Hollywood Summer,” J. Bradley (via victoriamonserrath)
(Source: commovente, via sharpedlamb)
2
By Chris Hedges, 02 July 2012, via @nofunctionart
Native Americans’ resistance to the westward expansion of Europeans took two forms. One was violence. The other was accommodation. Neither worked. Their land was stolen, their communities were decimated, their women and children were gunned down and the environment was ravaged. There was no legal recourse. There was no justice. There never is for the oppressed. And as we face similar forces of predatory, unchecked corporate power intent on ruthless exploitation and stripping us of legal and physical protection, we must confront how we will respond.
The ideologues of rapacious capitalism, like members of a primitive cult, chant the false mantra that natural resources and expansion are infinite. They dismiss calls for equitable distribution as unnecessary. They say that all will soon share in the “expanding” wealth, which in fact is swiftly diminishing. And as the whole demented project unravels, the elites flee like roaches to their sanctuaries. At the very end, it all will come down like a house of cards.
[…]
(Source: lilithlela)
