I maintain that there is a desperate social need for the creative behavior of creative individuals…
In a time when knowledge, constructive and destructive, is advancing by the most incredible leaps and bounds into a fantastic atomic age, genuinely creative adaptation seems to represent the only possibility that we can keep abreast of the kaleidoscopic change in this world….
Unless we can make new and original adaptations to our environment as rapidly as our science can change the environment, our culture will perish…
Not only the individual and group tensions but international annihilation will be the price we pay for lack of creativity.
Carl Rogers, Humanist, 1973
The good, the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. The age of perpetual need lay at our feet. The good earth, in retreat.
My looks have hardened over time. But not so much that I still cannot see we are killing the forests…for a tree.
As snow melts away toward another day.
It is hard cajoling…ignorance out of the way.
So much more than, poetry that litters the land.
Repercussions that will out live ‘what we have come to understand.’
An elder once disposed upon me. An ominous premonition:
“I will not live long enough to witness climatic chaos. And, I am very thankful for that.”
Reflecting back to that cynical conceit. From a man…with affect so flat.
Just one thought…
‘It is often bumbling errors that turn into trashy fact.’
In case you were curious…this definition, pretty much sums up myself and many of those around us.
considered laid back
prone to psychological disorders
beaten by their parents
without any real direction.
However, that does not mean, I, WE the X’s, do not care about the world at large. However, however, I, WE the X’s, never really had to deal with war…other than at home.
Because I care. Because #45 is more of an ass than I ever was drinking. Because that little guy over in North Korea is the world’s largest walking S.T.D. Because the threat of nuclear attack being as critical today…as during the cold war.
Because, because, because of the wonderful things an Nuclear Blast does!
A list of Do’s and Don’t During A Nuclear Attack had been made –
If alive…walk about a mile. Do not go any further…because you wouldn’t be able to anyway.
Find a city. If you live in rural New Hampshire like I do. Well, S.O.L Sisters and Brothers. Find a barn or an underground outhouse.
Attend a lecture. Why? I am uncertain. But in the 50’s…it had been a suggestion!
Seek shelter! Your ass is following off. And, you must sew it back with thread doused in radiation.
Wait! Believe or not, and this is our good luck! That pesky death-ridden dust rots quickly!
If unable to move, run, stay calm…
Duck and Cover goddamn it!
Hide! But if you were never good at Hide and Seek…cover your head. That’s just as good as, a table or couch, anyway!
Keep your fuckin’ eyes shut! Who wants to see the carnage anyway?
Buy a can opener. That is if you can find a store open during the doomsday chaos. Before I had been kicked out of the Girl Scouts…metal can openers, were all the rage.
Ring a Helpline or Hotline! Now I did some checking on this and found only two legit phone numbers. And, I am not allowed to share that information.
Now this is very, very, important…Smile! What is the worse that can happen…after having just been in a nuclear attack? My suggestion would be…before all this happens. Back when you and your loved ones are gathered around the radio. Listening for updates about the two dictators. Find yourself a cedar cigar box. Gather all the pot! The stuff under the couch cushions. The little baggies you left hidden in the car’s ashtray! The ashtray you never use.
Scrape resin, dig out those pipes and put your stash in the cedar box. Put it in the box and wrap it with ducttape. Wrap it ten times around. If you can’t duct it. Fuck it! Never let go of that box.
You, I, Us, will need a good high when all this shit is done!
If the world should continue to fall into decay…would it continue to break me?
Or, would it be the love, I could no longer retrieve?
How easy would it be to dismiss the beauty…
Watch it bleed.
Witness it leave.
How infantile…these notions with branded courage.
Youthful toys building an Armageddon in the mind.
They were only no plastic friends.
Young, my tomorrow’s tomorrow…had no end.
Still, and now, when I play the mature kind…
How difficult it is to witness love and beauty bleed.
Watch them as they leave.
Who will provide the grand design, what is yours and what is mine?
‘Cause there is no more new frontier, we have got to make it here!
We satisfy our endless needs and justify our bloody deeds.
In the name of destiny and in the name of God.