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Category Quick Jump

Note that we've played, um, loose with the categories so the first 3 especially, are practically meaningless.


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Reich 4.0

The Poors

The Farm for Loneliness

Oh mother, let me hold you.
Oh mother, I want to rock you.
Be my baby.
Be my son.

Mother, I want to rock you.

Don’t cry.


Can you not cry, just this once?

How can I ever comfort you if I am nothing but your daughter? Don’t you get it?

I can’t comfort you if you won’t let me become you.

So do me a favour: smile from the depths of your being. I know you didn’t love my father. Maybe that was hard for me to accept as a kid but you must realize that my father was MY FATHER! Not yours.

You chose him for whatever – oh, you didn’t. It was either him or a life as handmaiden to your brothers and sisters. Would it have been a life more lonely than the pining, keening, curling and clenching loneliness of the farm? The farm! That was the crux, wasn’t it?

You did not want to go back to the farm. It was not one of those decisions that you could change your mind about, once it was done.

Thoughts on Gun Control

I’m unhappy because I have no will power. I get up in the morning, read my email, check Facebook, check my three Twitter accounts – post a notice for the conference I’m organizing - check my email again…

I think about all I have to do…

Work out, the dishes, bit of work for one client, bit of work for another…

Brush my teeth…

The brushing of the teeth is the killer, each morning and night – do you believe that a 45 year old woman has trouble getting up in the morning and going to bed at night because she hates brushing her teeth? It’s true.

Brushing teeth is boring. My life is filled with boring and no – IT IS NOT MY FAULT!!

What is my fault is not standing up for what I need: abandoning writing, abandoning photography, abandoning video-making…

Abandoning my siblings... I should not have shut down when I was eighteen. I should not have let my Mother kill my spirit. I should have continued to fight her.. But I was on the edge of sanity!

Learning to See Lies

If you grow up poor, you are going to grow up very sensitive to lies. At some point, as you're trying to better yourself, you may blame yourself thinking that if you see lies and liars everywhere, it's because you lie and are a liar (birds of a feather and all), but this is not necessarily so.

You see lies everywhere because you grew up a lie. The mainstream - middle and/or upper classes that control media/communications - do not want your reality - your exploitation because you are an immigrant, minority or whatever - acknowledged. Your life is ignored, avoided, and whitewashed; unmentioned in discussions of economies, politics, culture, etc.. In essence, your life and your family's and neighbours' lives are lies, but you all know that they are not. You learn to see lies everywhere.

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