Khidr's Daughter

So you want to know more about me....

2008-03-19T15:22:00.001-05:00

Welcome to one of a half-dozen pages I use to do my writing exercises.

Chances are you ended up on this page after looking into my father Marvin "I'm-in-jail-because-of-my-own-ego" Sutton.

What will you find on this page? Past this entry you'll find things I wrote in 2005 & 2006. You'll see how much I hate men who father children but can't take responsibility for their actions. You'll see how much I adored Pope John Paul ll and grieved when he passed away. You'll see basically a scratch page of my scribblings while I was learning to use a blog.

You won't find any thing on Marvin. Some of you may think you're finding things that you think will give you an idea of me and my life. From a blip of a blog? Not likely. You'll find what I want you to find. You'll find what I wrote to be read. There's no dark secrets here or insights into me as a person. Just general observations on life.

And, as I've written on the Popcorn blog, if you send threats, insults or any ugliness it will be deleted. Marvin's little posse of rude supporters don't like the truth. Sorry, folks, I can't help you there so spewing drivel on me about your sad-ass hero will not be posted and will not be a concern for me.

To the folks who've sent support and sweetness:
THANK YOU SO MUCH. I APPRECIATE ALL YOUR KIND WORDS AND ENCOURAGEMENT.

Prayers to Heaven

2006-03-01T20:56:00.000-05:00

Sometimes they do get answered.
Today, my Grandmother and I got to breath a sigh of relief for my Mother.
I'm so happy! Mom's so deserving. I'm proud of her for sticking to her guns.
Or, to her microscopes...

It's all about the big fuzzy bathrobe

2006-02-25T18:34:00.000-05:00

I've been gardening and listening to the monks of Kiev. I intend to spend the entire day in Grandma's bathrobe.
In a sad sort of way it's been a perfect day. The snow is pretty but causing no issues. S____ and D_____ stopped in. Tea was served. The glass got passed around. Bach was listened to. A_____ came by after the sun set and her kids were in for the night. M____ called to share a giggle about a tampon box. Basil came out to play for a while. I spent a while trying to catch water drops on my fingers. I spent a long time in the shower conditioning my winter-ravaged hair. I wrote a lot. 'Thought about drawing, but, decided against it until my hands steady.
I think I'll order a pizza. M___& T____ loaned me "That 70's Show" on DVD- that should take care of the rest of the evening- and surf around on my Virtual Tourist page.
So long as I stay in my bathrobe .

Death to Peter Pan

2006-02-24T13:31:00.000-05:00

"Is it okay if I don't grow up?" The question came from a man in his mid-40's. It was directed at his mid-20's girlfriend. They were discussing the baby they have created.
WHAT A FUCKING STUPID QUESTION! What kind of mindset even prompts such a query?
No! It's NOT "okay" if you don't grow up! Shouldn't you have grown-up, say, over 20 years ago, sir?
It's fine to fuck, but, responsibility rots, is that what I am to understand is the underlying mentality of the modern American male?
"I met this girl this week end. I really like her. I even remembered her name in the morning." a man proudly announced to me the other day. You can push your cock into a woman, but, you can't retain her name? This goes along with a wonderful quote I found the other day- something to the effect that many many many men find women to be "tasteless, odorless and nearly plastic."
Die, Pete Pan, DIE! Your simpering whining ways are sucking the life out of the world. Your pecker is not that interesting. Your job is not the center of anyone elses world. You've got baggage, I understand- but, I am not a luggage rack. DIE PETER! ROT IN HELL!! I am not your mother. I am not your cock-cozy. I am not your punching bag. I am not here as an incubator for your off-spring. Your addictions and assumptions twist my guts. My focus in life is not to make you feel better about yourself.
Take responsibility for your children. Show the woman/man you love respect. Be honest. Grow together. Don't be an asshole. You know when you're doing it- don't do it.

Robots and real-time laughter

2006-02-23T23:19:00.000-05:00

This past weekend I had the unnerving experience of watching my friend Topher completely dismantle my computer. With a delicate hand he laid the guts of my machine across the poker table in an orderly and efficient fashion. I was fine when the key board came off. I marveled at the number of screws it took to keep the top panel in place. When a tug and a gentle nudge brought up the next panel I went faint. My baby was exposed- all her secrets locked inside. I told myself 'darkest before the dawn' and 'harder before it gets better' and took myself into the other room.
Folks dropping into the apartment that day were ordered not to bump anything, distract my pal or even breath as they made their way to the middle room. I was happy for company to keep me distracted. Topher was worked steadily- his head bent over the table. I tried not to look. I didn't ask very many questions. I fought the urge to leave the house.
It took Topher hours. I was duly impressed. He did me a great service in coming to my aid. And, when all was said and done there were only three screws left. ( Always a few pieces...)

The experience taught me how much I adore cyberspace. I will be 32 next month. In 1983 - third grade- they showed us a filmstrip. It's a fuzzy child memory. Filmstrips were more of a chance to be little monkeys than to collect information. This filmstrip told us that in the next few years all homes would have a robot- or something to that effect. The thought of metal in a house disturbed me and stuck in my brain. Mom likes wood furniture. My child-world was very organic. Metal men tromping through my home offended me. The film strip was quickly forgotten- until 2000 when I locked my type writer into it's case and set a Mac in it's place- and then it came back. Having a machine in the house wasn't nearly as disturbing as I thought it would be. Once I learned how to type, got a copy of Photo shop and a digital camera, and got on-line the world opened up to me.
I've embraced what I once fought and loathed. I've got a MySpace page and a Friendster page. I'm on Virtual Tourist. Of course, this blog. I've written a web site on Yemen. I don't feel comfortable w/out my digi' on me. I wish I could reach back through time to tell the little girl in Mrs. R's classroom that yes, 'robots' are coming to many homes in America, but, no, it isn't a big bad scarey thing.

This afternoon I made a man in Yemen laugh. He was sitting in a cafe while he was typing to me. The idea of putting a real-time smile on someone's face from THOUSANDS of miles away is a marvel that I don't take for granted.
Just this moment I got a email from dear Capt. Mockett. It's 7 AM where he is. To simply be aware of someone- someone on the side of the Red Sea- to know that my friend is making a pot of tea for his wife some how eases me. Life is going on.

for map of Yemen click here

2005-06-29T12:17:00.000-05:00

This is a very intersting map. I'm it's biggest fan.

Valkeryie the Gentle

2005-06-16T12:11:00.000-05:00

Valkeryie "Val" the Gentle passed away on June 16 after a long illness.
She was the long time companion of Ollie- may he rest in peace.
She never bit anybody.
She will be sorely missed by her 'mommy'.

Her burial was a touching moon-lit ceremony in the Meadows attended by a number of her closest friends. Fireflies gave a fly-over and "Flight of the Valkeryie" was hummed.
Those who were unable to attend sent thier sympathies.

Val was the last of a noble line of ferrets.
The role call of 'pookies' who came before her:

Barrett "the ferret" the First
Jakha the Strong
Hazen "Haze" the Wise
Dulcibelle "Dulci" the Spunky
Pippin the Tiny
Schreck the Complex
Rowan the Cuddley
Jack the Mighty
Pingo the Precious
Espresso the Explorer
Hazelnut the Vivacious
Occio the Travler
Gali Gai the Shape-shifter

May they all rest in peace.

Fatbasket is my buddy

2005-06-16T12:09:00.000-05:00

Check out my pal. : )

Cats DO go to heaven

2005-05-17T19:53:00.000-05:00

Today, some time in the morning, the world lost Panda "Mamma Kitty" Dufresne- Brown. She passed away on Old South St. unexspectedly.
Panda was a Maine Coon/ Hymalain mix with a fine calico coat and great puffy tail. She enjoyed chasing mice and watching squirrels, also, fine dining and the

She was the daughter of Northampton's famous shoulder- rider cats:( what was her name?) Panda bore of one beautiful litter. She leaves behind her feline companion Chocolate Brown-Dufrese and her "Mommy" and "Daddy"- all of whom will miss her very very much. she has been interned in a beautiful wooded glade on the East side of town.

Finger prints and Need

2005-05-12T08:27:00.000-05:00

In an insurance company- downs by the royal road- once a week- I wipe away the sweaty finger prints left behind by applicants. "Please," or "Thank you," say all those ghostly discs. I know it's only a matter of time until I leave my own set of prints on somebody's glass desk-guard.

Intelligent Design

2005-05-09T22:38:00.000-05:00

"Intelligent Design is religion tarted up to get around the US constitution."
-a Brit on the late-night news.

I agree:
KEEP RELIGION OUT OF PUBLIC EDUCATION !!!
Not okay-
bad educators; no chalk.
"I don't think we're in Kansas..."(-D. W'o'Oz) THANK GOD!(me- in New England- where we don't PREACH in public class rooms.)

'Rubber plants' and Masks

2005-05-09T22:25:00.000-05:00

In a office on the edge of town I couldn't help but notice the wooden 'medicine' masks on the walls and the fake plants in the waiting area. Those things wouldn't be note-worthy if that office wasn't the office of a plastic surgeon who does faces only. Fake faces. Fake flowers. Fake beauty. Thousands of dollars worth.
The market for this doctor and his crew is mammoth.( 'going by the number of files in the main office.) A surgury based mostly on low self-esteem. That's pretty harsh- that so many folks feel bad about their faces. That these folks would pay so much- nothing on the menu is less than $500- and, that's just a facial!Awful! Lasers, radio waves, lotions and potions, scalpels and scissors and stiches...to be 'beautiful'.

Woo-hoo work!

2005-05-05T11:20:00.000-05:00

Thanks to my dear friend Sheri and her son I've found a little work. Good. It's at least enough to loosen the noose. I'll worry about getting down from the scaffolding later.

What I think about every ten seconds

2005-04-22T19:24:00.000-05:00

I'd like to know why I'm so angry. I'd like to know why I don't "not want what I haven't got."
I want! There's all kinds of things on my list: pay my bills, cover my rent, buy a new computer (a G4 lap top with all the bells and whistles), get a vehicle on the road, eat well, see doctors, travel to a few places, get my Mom a few nice things,
buy a few rounds of drinks now and then...
I'd like to not be afraid. I'd like to be free to explore.
I'd like to take my shoulders down from beside my ears. I'd like to be in the "here and now." Poor people don't often get to live in the 'h&n.'
I would like to not feel like a less-than-human-animal. I'd like to not feel the shitty wrap of crap all around me when I try to figure out how I'll make a future for myself. I'd like to think about having a nice house with a full fridge and have it feel like a possiblity instead of a pipe-dream.
I hate whining about my own poverty. Other people are poor,too.
But, I'm not those people; I'm this person. This person is sick of not being able to eat well, sleep well or be well because of money.
It's been said before: the only people who say money isn't everything are people who have it. Let it be said over and over again-

More Than a Gripe

2005-04-20T13:53:00.000-05:00

I NEED A JOB!!! I cannot state that strongly enough.

"Ah tell you, little young'un, "

2005-04-07T21:22:00.000-05:00

It was easier being Marvin "Popcorn" Sutton's daughter before I knew who he was...is.

"If theres one thing you can do for me," Aunt Pansey says to me, "don't never be like your daddy."
"That's impossible." I assure her.
Please click on the bold type title to learn more about 'Popcorn'.

Darbie's Camel

2005-04-07T13:24:00.000-05:00

Where-oh-where did my Darbie go?
Where-oh-where can she be?
She's following a camel, I think.

Whatever Way Love's Camel Takes...
My heart has become capable of every form:
It is a pasture for gazelles
And a monestary for Christian monks,
And a temple for idols,
And the pilgrim's Ka'ba,
And the tablets of the Torah,
And the Book of the Koran.
I follow the religion of Love:
Whatever way love's camel takes,
That is my religion, my faith.

Ibn Arabi

From Shelburne Falls to Shabwa

2005-04-07T11:00:00.000-05:00

Mafeesh ustad. I don't have a teacher.
There's so much I'd like to know.
If I was into Palestine or Iran I'd be in business. I'm into Yemen... I've got no one to talk to. Did Queen Arwa have any children? What is the whole story of the "Tiger Killer"? How can I get more buhur shipped to me? ( I can't bear the thought of running out of that scent...) What can I do to get sign language to the children in Al Mulkulla?

Karol Wojtyla

2005-04-03T14:29:00.000-05:00

May God bless and protect Pope John Paul II.

At Mayfair Manor I slipped past the doors of those still sleeping and took a seat on the couch. It was 3:30 AM EST- the middle of the night. I picked up the remote, planted my finger on the 'down volume' button and clicked on the t.v.. There was no difficulty finding what I was after. Eight channels were carrying the funeral. Slowly I bumped up the volume until I could just hear what was happening.
The bowl that is St. Peter's Square was already filled with sunlight and pilgrims. Every inch of the plaza was taken up by the 150,000 people come to say good-bye to the beloved pontiff.
When the coffin was carried out of the Basilica the crowd erupted in applause- the first of many out-pourings of affection from those present. On top of the coffin a copy of the Gospel was opened. The priests circled the coffin with what my friend Capt. Mocket refers to as "firey hand-bags." Beautiful plumes of smoke billowed around the priest and over the Pope. The wind was billowing out the robes of the clergy and flipping the pages of the Gospel. The pages of the book turned one way and then the other. I wish I could've seen which pages it stopped on.
There were readings from the Psalms (in Spanish), Paul (the only portion of the service in English) and John (in Latin). I really liked the Homily. Somewhere along the way the wind blew the Gospel on the casket shut...
The crowd was astounding. So many people so still; so quiet. One little boy was wearing a bandana around his head that read: "Viva il Papa". One woman was holding a portrait of the Father to her chest. Everywhere there were flags. Brazil, Mexico, America, France, Lebanon, and, of course Poland.
Pope John Paul II became Pope just as I was getting old enough to ask my Grandmother questions such as: what does 'pollock' (sp?) mean? First my grandmother told me never to use that word again in her house (which I haven't) and then she pointed out the new pontiff as a strong contradiction to that bizarre theory that Poles are idiots. "He is Polish- like you." She even got me the Pope John Paul II comic book- which I read so many times it fell apart. My grandmother taught me to be proud of my heritage. I still have the tiny "Solidarnosc" t-shirt Grandma brought back from Poland for me. Pride in our Polish Pope is part of the Polish package: he was Karol Wojtyla before he was Pope John Paul II.
I'm not quite sure about Catholic Masses- I may've missed a step, but, I think the Eucharist came next. Wow. That was impressive Host-handling. You try and get bread and wine into the mouths of 150, 000 people and see how easy it is.( I wonder if Vatican wafer tastes better than the regular kind.)
After the Lord's Prayer came the Sign of Peace- an ancient tradition resurected not so long ago. "Peace be with you." "And, also, with you." I like that part of Mass. It's the only part, as a non-Christian, that I can take part in. It was a deeply moving moment to see so many people reaching out to eachother so gently.
The Eastern Churches, in their beautiful glittering robes, gave their respects. I had never heard their prayers or songs before. It's a heavy sound, but, I liked it. The prayer their Bishop (?!) gave was very sweet.
Cardinal Paolo (?) sprinkled the coffin with water- the Water of Life- and the pall bearers desended to lift our Pope for a last good-bye. How much love and loss was there in the world in that moment? How many millions of people were all of one mind just then? It's a stunning idea.
I was very lucky that the funeral lasted as long as it did ( almost 2 and a half hours). M , roused by the alarm clock, came into the just-lightening living room as the pall bearers were lifting the Pope onto their shoulders. "I need a hug," I whispered. The warm arms of that good man were a blessing at such a moment. I was all wrung out. We sat close and watched as the pall bearers turned the Pope for one last time to the crowd. And then the Pope was gone- down into the catacombs beneath the Basilica to rest beside St. Peter...for now. The crowd had been calling "Santo! Santo! Santo!" If he is made a saint his remains will be brought back above ground as is the tradition.

It's scarey to think of the world without John Paul II in it. I keep trying to remember he had a good life and that he couldn't stay forever.

from May 7, 2001
Damascus, Syria
from a prayer given by the Holy Father in the Golan Heights:

"To the Mother of Jesus, the ever blessed Virgin Mary, we entrust the men and women living in the land where Jesus once lived. Following her example, may they listen to the word of God, and have respect and compassion for others, especially those who differ from them. May they be inspired to oneness of heart and mind, in working for a world that will be a true home for all it's people."

While the Pope was in Syria I was in Yemen. I watched as the first Roman Catholic Pope in history set foot in a mosque. Ahmed- my Yemeni angel- translated the newcast. It was comforting to see the Pope on the t.v.- like seeing my Grandpa on the screen."Hey! I know you!" The image of Pope John Paul II is as familiar to me as that of Uncle Sam. I still remember the portrait of him my Great Grand Mother (Mary Meilesko- may she rest in peace) had in her living room- in the corner over the couch.
The mosque was the Omayyad Mosque- a very interesting site. Christians revere the place because of the massive marble shrine said to hold the head of John the Baptist Initially the place was dedicated to Hadad a Semitic god. Between Hadad and the Head the Romans built a temple for Jupiter. One location; four religions. Cool.

First there were prayers for him. Now there are prayers to him.
( And I hope the Vatican returns his heart to Poland.)

This makes my brain hurts

2005-03-31T20:38:00.000-05:00

[ Smash! - a bottle of champagne on the bow] The maiden voyage has begun!

It's gonna take me a while to figure this whole blog business out.
It's all an experiment.
Ink in the water.