Your dog bit me (So, lets have sex.)

There I was, minding my own business and bam! Out of nowhere she is suddenly in my grill. 

“Get off my lawn! OMG! Are you pissing on my bushes?? I’m calling the cops.” The little Shitzu was yelping at my feet and trying to smell my pee. I shook, repackaged and zipped up.

Me extending hand: “Your quite attractive. You really don’t need the dog as a conversation starter. I say drop him off west of 9th street. My names Narcissus. Didn’t catch yours.”

You snorted thru your nose. “Are you kidding me? Get off my.... Yes, hello, 911? I have an intruder. On my lawn. What? Hold? No I will not hold. I’m a six figure salary white women!!” 

Six figures got my attention. “Well that explains the SUV, Romney decals and the annoying Shitzu. Way to use your girl power to be original.”

“His name is bankster, and I will have you know that I busted my ass for all this and I sure as hell didn’t do it so vagrants like you could just piss all over it!” 

“You busted your ass all right and for longer hours with less pay. The system won. You think its about equality sister? Try labor costs. You sacrificed family so they could get you cheaper. And you think thats progress? Divorce, bad parenting, Ambien addiction...Of course the bright side is bad parenting is responsible for 90% of my dates.” 

“Hello? Yes. A man exposed himself on my lawn. And is still here. Send everyone.”

“Now thats a stretch. A little wee wee after too much drinking is all. I mean the urine was a little. Not my wee wee. Thats not little. But you already know that. Starring pretty hard too I noticed...” A wink, a nod and a trigger finger gesture, for effect

“You. You bastard. You drunken deviant hipster...”

 I interrupted and took a step towards her. “Hipster? How dare you! Lets dispense with the foreplay. I think you are secretly hoping I take your capitalist MILF ass round back and bang the Fox and Friends-rapture-Jesus right out of your vagina hole. Am I right?” I gave a thumbs up to the Shitzu. The faint but all too familiar whine of sirens drifted into my frontal cortex. 

You seemed to fall backwards and as you did so released the 8 ounce hound - who promptly bit me. I know this because it was stuck to my sneaker by, what I assumed must be, the teeth. A minor inconvenience. You scuttled up the many steps and slammed the door.

So, I checked myself out in the mirror of the SUV (never looked better!) and made my way down the street. I shook the dog off 3 houses down. We bail you and your banker friends out and this is the thanks we get? Geesh. Yea, your welcome.

N.

Caught in the rain (Revis)

I was caught in the rain, wasting my time on the ground.

Trading thoughts - across the room - you were surrounded. But it was you who could get me high. I slipped my backpack off and cooly assembled my lonely gear. 

Laptop. Cord. Coffee. I pretended to check my cell for texts but as I already knew, there were none.

I lingered. As if reading something profound. And I continued the charade of deep thought in order to give an impression and to not appear as looking to see who was looking. 

That would be desperate and pathetic.

When our eyes did meet a small cosmic waved rolled through me. You were looking over his shoulder. His back to me. Your wandering gaze telegraphed to me like the frantic morse code of a shipwrecked survivor. Or that part in horror movies when they try to grab a phone instead of making a run for the door. Its over before it has begun.

Still, its like a mutual acknowledgment. If we were in different circumstances, this might get interesting. I remove my jacket which allows you to preview my tattoos. The one on my right upper arm seems to get your attention whenever you can sneek a peek. I chuckle into my go juice. 

The laptop fans wisp and hum as pirated data streams and clogs up the processor. At 60 degrees the 2nd fan kicks on and several non vital programs are suspended to lighten the load. All of this in nano seconds. Intervals of time that are imperceptible to humans. Much like the rain changing to snow. Much like your potential filled gaze changes to walking out the door, hand in hand with the man whose back I saw. It all just was... and then it wasn’t. Echo used to tell me stuff like that all the time. 

N.

Under the black flag (ahoy me pirates)

The heroes you should be following...

The heresy of Napster has become the orthodoxy of Spotify.

I.

As rebels against a social order that is oppressing them, those who turn to piracy are critiquing the economic and political systems that have seen them disenfranchised. It was precisely in the emerging capitalism of the 17th and 18th centuries – in the golden age of exploration, where empires fought to expand their dominions and wealth by exploiting colonies – that we saw the golden age of piracy too. Fed up with making greedy princes and merchants rich through plunder, they decided to rob from the plunderers.

II.

Somali piracy can be read in this light too, and one interesting episode is worth noting. The French luxury yacht Le Ponant was captured in 2008 by a group of pirates. 

Le Ponant was the picture of the good life: a mixed crew of young men and women, sailing a fabulously luxurious boat to the Med to pick up passengers – with a good chef and plenty of wine on board. When captured, the crew hid the women of the boat in the bows, but, unable to last out they emerged after a few days. 

The pirates were furious, as William Langewiesche described in his article for Vanity Fair: (http://tinyurl.com/ahrmsq)

“We do not touch women! We want money!” Referring to himself and his men, he said, “Robbers! Not terrorists!” Ahmed escorted the group aft to the luxurious lower lounge, where he ordered that the women be provided with water and food. When the water arrived, he sent it back for being lukewarm.

III.

Further, the supposedly picture-perfect scene that the pirates had disturbed was not quite what it seemed. Le Ponant was registered in the far-flung French protectorate of Wallis and Fatuna. This meant that they could fly the French flag – very nice for the tourists – but didn’t have to abide by any French employment or tax laws. As Langewieshe describes conditions for the crew:

The wages were low, the hours were long, and no retirement benefits were provided. During rotations ashore there were no wages at all. These terms were non-negotiable. They stemmed from the culture of a global shipping industry which over the past 60 years has pursued profit and efficiency in part by ridding itself of labor unions, and more fundamentally by freeing itself from the constraints of the nation-state and its laws.

So, although they initially feared for their lives when attacked, one could say that the crew were in some respects more free during that time of occupation than they were under the oppressive regime of their employers. For those of you who enjoy eating paint, I’m saying the crew were treated better by the pirates than their bosses. A tough sell, sure but either way, this leads us to a clue about why pirates remain so fascinating to us and threatening to the powers that be: they offer us a life that is more free.

IV.

The pirate life was a short one by all accounts, but it at least had the advantage of liberty – and merriment. For those living in the shadow of St Paul’s cathedral in 1741 London, reading Captain Johnson’s bawdy book on pirate exploits was an escape from the drudgery of their pretty grim lives. Working like dogs, with the twin powers of the merchants and the priesthood ready to pounce of them if they stepped out of line, here was a breath of fresh air – a short and merry life by proxy. Pirates enthrall us in the same way. 

For those aboard the naval ships. Piracy provided the first glimpse of freedom, equality and notoriety. Women, slaves, handicapped and children could now be seen as equals and live (albeit short) lives of dignity. 

V.

The history of pirates that you have been taught has been written by their powerful victims and eventual conquerers. Its high time mate-tees that you sail away from the safe and corrupt and back into the dangerous high seas. Pirates are the logical and inevitable extension of controlled commerce; extremely skilled, and often navigated the shipping lanes with more knowledge and flexibility than even the military.  They worked for themselves, or they worked for the state, as the situation arose.

In the new world order, shipping is the internet; the goods are data. Just ask Napster and Anonymous.

N.