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Farewell Mr. Bourdain, I will always be grateful to you for knowing more about me, because I watched you, saw you, and I will miss your (hu)manity, beyond mere words.
If you watched Anthony Bourdain, read any of his words, listened to the conversations he had with other Rock’n Roll high-powered folks and the everyday humans he engaged with in the course of his work, and you still failed to see, hear, the angst, the vulnerability, beneath the unfiltered, the Rock’n Roll, you were not paying attention.
Surface level thinking, instant fucking everything, generalizations, assumptions, falsely drawn conclusions, few critical brains, and much too much attention to all things fucking woo-woo, are the scourge of our culture.
I’m sorry for the profound loss everyone who loved you is feeling in this moment, I’m so very sorry.
~Marcela.
Image: Google search – Writing: All Rights Reserved.
Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Rants & Other Musings: Unfiltered-Raw
With an attitude
of Elk-peril be damned,
~Marcela.
June 08, 2018
Writing and Images: All Rights Reserved
Remnants
Like an old (Czech) flag in the wind,
tattered remnants of fear,
flap relentlessly,
in the recesses of my heart and mind;
denounce and decry my worthiness of,
the unorthodox life I crave.
Whispers the fearless wild-child inside,
“…burn the flag woman, burn the damned flag.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With thoughts of my maternal grandmother, Žofie Schlosser Ševčíková,
June 06, 1911 – November 17, 1995.
She was inordinately dignified and quite literally worked her fingers to
the bone for my mother and her. She did it while standing up to,
and then leaving (unheard of at that time), a violently abusive,
alcoholic husband. She did it during a time in war-torn Eastern Europe
most of us cannot fathom, no matter how many history books we profess
to have read. She was profoundly gifted in languages,and well-read.
She toiled with her tiny body and life-worn hands,in a way we, of more
recent generations cannot know. One of the things I remember most about
her is the importance to her, of quality, in everything. And I wonder,
knowing what I know about the drudgery, the losses, the sacrifices that
were the bulk of her life, I wonder, given the opportunity to ask her
about what she would have done differently, had she the chance to be
anyone,to do anything,she desired,what that would have been.
I am anxious this day,and she came to my mind.
She was born 107 years ago. A mere blip on the radar of our Universe,
not known to most, but remembered well, by me and my mama,her daughter,
this day.
~Marcela: tattered in the process of (more, always more,) unfurling.
Writing: All Rights Reserved / Image: Google Search
June 06, 2018
Marcela: Unfiltered 