Sidetracked Charley

Hard to soar with eagles when you are flocking with turkeys. With apologies to all the rest of the flock. I quit my resistance group. I am more of a monkey wrench gang member. Apologies to Edward Abbey. And it was becoming far too popular and really mainstream for what was once a secret group in the white male heart of Trump land.  And for those who want to condemn the snowflakes because they all melt away, let me say that is not what has transpired here. The French underground were not big joiners either. And in the days of Marie Antoinette it was not a public movement until she stood on the platform of the guillotine. I am still resisting. I am still doing all the same things the group I was in did and are doing. I am just not seeking their approval or exposing my actions to their scrutiny.    Not having to seek their approval is allowing me more time to preserve who I am. What do I gain by resisting if I give up who I am? I am a solo flyer ...

Don't separate your life from political resistance. Nadia of Pussy Rant Note: The Russian punk rock group Pussy Rant spent two years in a Russian prison for their resistance to Putin and his government. They are still resisting. From the mouth of babes.  Donald Trump was elected president and I joined the resistance again. I had experience with resistance to Richard Nixon. And to save the mini skirt. Sounds funny now in the same paragraph, but saving the mini skirt was serious. For decades men had told women how to dress. Hems up and down, no white after Labor Day or before Easter. No slacks at school or work. Our protests against Nixon, Watergate, and Kent State were more serious. The peace marches against the illegal Vietnam war and the draft were deadly serious. And behind the marches to save the mini skirt were the fights for the Equal Rights Amendment. It was a very serious time even if Time Magazine made fun of the marchers in mini skirts. And I sometim...

I think I have always lived my life as a sprint. I grew up fully believing I was going to die at 23. Who knew where I got that. Then I belonged to the generation who was not suppose to trust anyone over thirty. I was diagnosed with a chronic disease with a limited life expectancy in my thirties. And just when I was told I seemed to have defeated it relatives were dying off. Sixty-seven seems to be end of days for the older generation of my family. The ski accident with its closed brain trauma centered my life around today. Life is short. Live it to the max. Do not wait for retirement. Art is great because there are constant new beginnings and endings to your work. And when paintings take too long there is photography. Even my real world job was in industrial construction which has a beginning, middle, and end. So I admit to diving into this resistance battle to save the republic in short terms. I committed to the first 100 days and it has only been 30 plus. And he is not gone. ...

Dawns on me there is a reason this blog is named Sidetracked Charley. I can be easily diverted. As I compose this in my mind I am playing with my cat, Thicke, and his kitty whip. We all have lives and responsibilities. We are not the Delhi Lama on a mountain top. No one drops offerings of food within our easy reach. And most people who get involved in resistance movements are already involved in a myriad of other socially responsible causes. I was deeply involved in the arts and within one group on the board. We were trying to get an art center for our community. Those responsibilities got taken away from me recently. Plus side is I am more time to spend on resistance. Downside is I regret being shoved out of groups I still feel deeply committed two after working toward a goal for almost a decade. Playing with the cat is sanity producing. Blogging is sanity producing. Being forced out of something you believe in is devastating. This week is about mourning that. And the loss of ...

I had no sooner finished the previous blog when I found myself asking who was I just the day before. Or the minute before I read the article which made such a difference in how I saw my future. The glib answer is, "The same me." But I know that isn't so. If it was then the article would not have had such an impact. I knew we were facing dark days. I knew it was very important to resist the direction this clown and his party were taking our country. I knew I had zero in common with any of them. But I also knew I had friends who I cut off because after the election they became someone I did not recognize. It was as if the election of Donald Trump had given them permission to use his words and his mocking tone, and his rude and crude behavior. It was almost as if pussy grabbing was contagious or at least I was afraid it was contagious. Yesterday, I was totally fine with the loss of those few friends almost as if I believed it was a temporary quarantine. I would c...

As, no doubt, the whole world is aware we just had presidential election in this country. In some ways it reminded me of my first windowpane LSD trip. The trip was awesome but the side effects lingered and colored my whole world. Prior to the birthday acid I thought I was happy. Afterwards I realized I wasn't and radically changed my whole life in a matter of weeks. After this presidential acid trip I knew I was severely depressed. And the signs had been building since the Democratic primary in New Mexico. First result is I changed my registration to unaffiliated after being a Democrat for most of my life. For a while I was rather too self-involved to realize that most of my friends were crying more, more withdrawn, more afraid. And soon I began to suspect anyone who did not exhibit these signs. Did they get the placebo or just cheek it? Or, heaven forbid, did I have friends who voted for him? During the beginning of the cabinet picks I waited for them to become aware of thei...