Ms Bauske

Funny you should ask.
What kind of work am I looking for?

Ms Ellen Bauske was the highschool biology teacher at Country Day School in the 1980's.
She was everyone's favorite teacher because she taught science. Everybody loves science because science explains our strange, fragile, uncomfortable existences in a vast unknown universe on a finite planet. It unravels and creates words that reveal mechanisms, chain reactions, chemistry between our brains and hearts and the food we eat, the air we breath, the water that sustains life.
Science is understanding.
The language of science is control and dominion over nature, over our selves.
Science is the study of how we've survived our past and why we are still able to imagine multiple futures despite every attempt to distract and blind us with doom, fate and shame.
Science is our way out of mortality.

But I didn't want to be a scientist.
I wanted to be a journalist.
I wanted to testify.
Without breaching walls, invading privacies or extracting valuables, I wanted to journal about real and fake news, to tell the story of the end of the world, the end of times, the paradigm shift between documentation and realization, between fear and freedom, big picture stuff.

Yesterday 25.01.2020 Ms Bauske reached out on the Facebook chat to help again.
A question, what KIND of work am I looking for?

We're all currently living in the multiverses of darpa, fluttering between sources of information, those who would keep their privacy private and those who have traveled the rabbit hole, opening doors and entering rooms named after Roberts, those who have attended the churches and bowed at the altars, and kissed the ringed hand in dreams.

I would work as I always have, at a table with other humans, sharing stories; waking before the sun to pray and to garden and to keep appointments. It would be a KIND of work were I to let money in IT. So that's what I want, to answer your question.

The work I want is letting money in.
The land is here, at La Ultima Finca, in Costa Rica. These are the last farms, I know where they are and how the water flows through them. I know all the plants personally, which animals and trees have disappeared in the last few years. How the street lights at night have gaslit the pollinators, the owls, the bats. I know that to make these farms fertile again, we need to repopulate the forest with snakes.

The money will multiply here, over time.
And since Ms Bauske is a science teacher, here's my wager.
$1200 divided over the next three months: February, March, April...
So that by May, I can ensure the seed funding of $12,000 to take my journal to the radio broadcasts to the north and south of the American continent and another $12,000 to bring the other journalists to a table where we can talk about the economic benefits of legalizing and growing hemp to replace and heal the damages of mining. Turn 12 hundred into 12 million over the next ten years.

A campaign to talk like grownups, about warfare and lawfare, about food, maps and timelines.

La Ultima Finca 2020

de mapas y maniobras.

se disputan las alcaldías de las aldeas costarricenses.
los barrios, las cuadras, los centros de salud y educación.
saben que como el año, la rata comienza el cero de acuario.
quieren borrar las actas, las asociaciones, los anónimos.
y cuenta nueva.

la última finca lleva funcionando al margen de los blogs ya 13 años. sigue siendo una ventana, disque puerta a las contradicciones y contraindicaciones que cansan el andar forestero.

la última finca es un lugar de verdad.
sobre el mapa google esta desfazado, pero es el cerro boscoso que se ve en todas las fotos de ciudad colón. es el rodeo, es san rafael y san bosco, es quitirrisi, es el centro, sus cuadras, sus condominios alicante, colón y la tertulia, sus barrios bermudez carvajal y calle las carreras, es brasil y la trini.

es un dormitorio particularmente occidental de una ciudad capital chepita josefina, y cómo tal, representa barrios de alajuelita, escazú, santa ana y piedades. una calle vieja sobre sendero que conecta muchas finquitas y muchos apellidos.

la última de la calle el porvenir, por longevo y enclaustrado queda al nombre apellido mckinney.
cliente del ice 1980 d.c. # 49-12-31.

ciudad colón le lleva pagando al difunto marido de laura chinchilla, josé maría rico, un español, una palabra de una cifra que no existe en castellano, ni en maya, por entrar y salir de nuestro cantón, bastante, suficiente.

muchos dicen, y me consta, que hemos pagado por todas las carreteras del sol existentes en todos los países de la #globalvia. los obreros que asfaltaron nuestra ruta 27 venían de venezuela y chile por cierto.

alguno de los candidatos a algunas de estas aldeas aledanas a esa carretera se atreverían a desapropiar el recaudo diario de sus casetas los peajes? para financiar programas de capacitacion y trabajo en technologías, materiales y energías nuevas? un ser tractor es buen candidato para gobernar en un mundo orgánico que perece ante las marcas de la indolencia? cocacola y bayer, venenos de una máquina, formula química de minerías si Curie, se las pueden con el descontrol del espíritu que provocan?

queremos vida, queremos agua, queremos aire.
queremos dormir de noche sobre un planeta que desconoce la amenaza, que celebra el peligro, que corre con lobos.

science fiction redux -i'm in #hashtag facebook jail

the truth by now, is we know everything about one and other.
the most painful thing you know about me is i do not have any money.

i am in facebook jail for 3 days.
for 72 hours i cannot post, like, love or react to
american society, chilean society, costarrican society.
american-latinamerican
spanish-english
the empire
the sad and tired, the bound and gagged.

it's a fine time to be silenced.
between eclipses, at the end of an era, the beginning of uncertain times, for everyone.

you mustn't clean your name by soiling the names of others.
but if you are a criminal, by now, everyone knows it.
i am a party girl.
i am a serious thinker.
i am empathic.
i transmute feeling into words and back, daily, rigorously.
groomed over generations to be communication architect, a journalist, an editor.
to listen to both the story and the story that is not being told.
i guess that makes me an exhausting person to be around.
mostly everyone i know spends most of their day live action role playing, larping through a hazy at best definition of truth.

sent into online exile between new year eclipses.
i slept 24 hours on christmas day.
it's very hot for the month of december.
my menopause is over.
sleeping for 24 hours requires some preparation, restless sleeping mixed with intense lucid dreaming, the sonic batting of mosquito wings, the winds over central america are the atoms of betelgeuse imploding in the distant universe.

years end 2019 so many references to science fiction.
firstly that cinema is all science and all fiction.
0.07% of humanity is chosen.
hollywood-holland-holyland

sound on film is swiss
chocolate is maya.
coffee is african.
everything that grows around the equator between capricon and cancer is mixed, plants, people, language, and war is over. hemp is currency, energy is free, children are safe.
dupont, bayer and all oil extraction and processing plants have disappeared.
the planet shivers through a crack in solid light and all the harm inflicted over one hundred years goes on to a dimension where that planet dies. the rest of us hold on and awaken or get out of jail to discover the seaons never went away, that diversity is thriving, and the dishonest have learned their dishonesty did not go unnoticed, that integrity lost can only be restored by reason, never force.
google never embraced evil.
knowledge set everyone free.
julian assange was released and returned to his home australia, that was not burnt and he restored to full health.
letting one bloke take all the blame for everyone else's crime, punishing a journalist for doing his job, is criminal.

"the truth is we outgrow those who don't know how to love us."
here in fb jail i have to silently observe the news:
iran would like us to stop trading in dollars.
we should.
if israel knew what was good for it, it would declare truce and help palestinians back on their feet, get them fresh water, remove the check-points, disband the idf, shutter the weapons workshops, brick by brick disassemble the great wall and pray the arsenal of atomic bombs back to oblivion, where they belong.

lowkey is my new smart crush.
joe rogan is my old new crush.
lee camp is my news monkey, metal.
abby martin is smarter than me.
we're listening.

my walk of the talk, would be to march over to my family home and tell them what to do.
they won't listen, so i don't.
it took me seven years to complete memoire, a process that mostly involved editing, allowing what i don't tell to fill in the story of my life.
i've spent my whole life listening.
vast memory of what was said, what was not said and what held true over time.
my mom's new thing is for me to come at her like a person with no memory, enter at this new stage with the same selflessness as i agreed to enter all the other stages of our story.
if she's thinking about creating a docile reprieve for herself, a bubble of wellness from which to exit the world stage, that's fine. we can do docile.
what we can no longer be do is hostility, talk, words, lies.
and real estate.
mismanagement of property in times of mass awakening.
all her fears are me.
she's been an obstacle to change, for me, for as long as i've lived; the petty discouragement, the modesty clause, the precious sense of esthetics.
my obstacle to myself has been the defiance of allowing history to repeat itself.
a joke to be over told.
a meal to be over-planned.
a kitchen in the shape of a claw.

so many square feet of sleeping space, so much metal in the overbuilt frame, one little old lady.
a brother who sleeps in the service quarters.
what would be beneficial is a group therapy, a guided family constellations work in which we can agree to stop disagreeing.
as long as our mother does not respect me, my siblings won't either.
their children won't know the love of their auntie.
the house will fall to pieces.
the death will not be celebrated.
the dead will not leave.

lowkey, kareem dennis is only 33.
that was my favorite age to be.
i quit smoking and meat that year, i made peace with my body.
i walked alone through forests and along beaches.
i talked from land phone booths along dark roads.
i went to santiago that year, a week well spent with friends.
i went to new york that year and rocked out with uncle and cousins in smoke free venue.
2003 was before a black president was possible.
mark zuckerberg was 19, pre-harvard.
lowkey was 17.

my dad lives in southern arizona, now.
his house is 5 miles from the country's largest detention center.
the desert needs to be planted with food, the grounds don't need surveillance, or guns.
the center is filled with children, my children, the hondurans.
they were born from war, from rape.
they go free and the prison gets the lights turned off.
ac during daylight hours. the prisons will become small towns, will create trade and barter.
if it's done on other planets it can be done here.

part of my christmas siesta was to watch "Arrival" and the two popes.
and wish the trolls become elves if for a bit, prompted by a clip from a man named chris packham, via the group organized at standing rock. it made me happy.
news of gas leaks can be faked - a field of hemp stopped the fire from spreading in valparaiso.
we hit the wall at fukushima, like the replicant zhora running through endless panes, not dying just busting shit up, bleeding. breaking all barriers, to truth, that life, is not a movie, that these one hundred years end when we stand up and dance.
15:55

Equality and the Baha'i Universal House of Justice

It's 2019.
I have no idea who is on the Baha'i Universal House of Justice in Haifa, Israel.
I don't know their names, what their professions are, what experience with Justice they are bringing to the table.
All I know is as long as there are no women at that table, there is no Justice.

As far as I can tell, the National Baha'i Assemblies throughout the world, that do include women, are taking points to and from the International Teaching Center, also in Haifa, but it's only on the official occasions that I receive copies of letters from the BUHJ to world believers vía email.

I'm not sure what my current standing in the Baha'i Community is, what they call me these days, "a believer in good standing", a "friend of the faith", one of the "ungodly". It's hard to tell.
Julian Assange is sitting in jail for revealing truth, I am not.

I am both friend and believer who no longer cares where she stands within institution.
I've always known myself equal.
2020

Facebook Jail

House rock.
Never thoug...t
Yes I did.

#MarkZuckerberg put me in 24 hour censorship.
After 12 years of pushing envelopes one inch closer to today, December 17.
8ish AM

Safer hands by Olive, sending you to Julian, to you Assange, to happiness, to health.
Hummingbird that visited whilst I smoked #2.
Flat feet on forest floor.

Nobody really dies here.
These organic, ephemeral, light beings we call bodies are meaning, sense subtle, smell bullshit.
Zuckerberg didn't invent global communication.
Endorse community standards for anarchy, for equality, he wanted to rate women for Harvard.
Now, I'm in the corner because I posted a picture of a penis.
Surgical procedures for removing foreskin isn't porn, isn't titillation, gratuitous, the body of the nose are science, not fake news or disingenuous information.
I will never be weaponized.
I'll be shunned, ignored, blocked, ghosted, but I'll Melania BeBest and get the Trump out of here.

Boundaries and abuse of power.
My love will never be a tool of destruction.
My name a tool of war,
a source of resentment.
Jaleh can only mean water, dew, earth's tears.
My love, like Melania's jewels can never be valued, priced, heckled.

Curso Apreciación de Cine

Lineas de tiempo.
Eras pre-pos sonoro, colores, efectos CGI.
Objetivo, compartir el anticipo y los efectos del cine sobre la psiquis. Explicar la manipulación de los medios sobre la humanidad. Liberar las películas de confines de lucro a herramientas de igualdad, justicia y bienestar social.

women in black

basically,
i hereby #PATENT (September 15, 2019. 09:18 am)
we're going to wear your suits, your shirts, your ties, your shoes and we're going to show up with this plan.
1. my store sells nothing
2. my store features everything we can make with #HEMP
3. my store doubles as a media table and we invite everyone with solutions to our stupid political problems who have intelligent alternatives.
4. we keep this project up and running for one year.
5. we transform the economy and save the planet.
we need $12,000
(amended October 7 10:57 u.s. mountain)
we need Achiote
the soft seed of the spiney achiote fruit, a tropical tree, that is crushed and used a red colored pigment spice.
we need Chayote
a small green pumpkin, vine.
we need Ayote
a pear like fruit, flavor neutral
and Camote
sweet potato
Zapote
Lúcuma.