will to power

I took Sofia (who prefers to be called Sasha) and Analucia to the Martin Acres Park. Sasha was running around talking to strangers while I was feeding Analucia. I saw a group of three boys, about 5 years old. One boy was leading the other two in a game of pretend. They were pretending a large metal structure was a dinosaur fossil. When the leader touched the fossil the dinosaur came to life and the boys ran away screaming. Boys are obsessed with dinosaurs and trucks. Why? Because they are big and powerful. A few minutes later and the leader is picking up sand in his hands and says, "This is power. Here, have some". He pours a little power into each boys hands. One boy picks up a pinecone and says, "this is MY power". The leader says, "that isn't power! This is power," and he picks up some more sand in his hands. He tries to give some to the boy with the pinecone, but the boy doesn't want it. So the leader gives away some of his power to the third boy who takes it. Then the leader offers his sand once again to the boy with the pinecone. This time, not wanting to be left out, the boy drops the pinecone and takes some sand. At this point a fourth boy, maybe three years old, comes over and holds out his hands for some power. The leader gives him some. A few minutes later, as the first three are already off doing something else, the fourth younger boy is still standing there looking down at his power, smiling. This is the way our minds and societies are formed from its earliest stages of development. Its a primal will to have and control power. No wonder.

A grandfatherly gentleman comes over and sits on our bench. He says hi and then out of nowhere, "Are you between jobs?" I want to say, this is a job! But I just say I work from home and am therefore lucky enough to be able to take a break and hang out with my girls in the park. He says, "Well, you're doing it right. You're treating them like children instead of little midgets. That's the reason my three year old grandson is living with us, because my son treats him like a little midget."

Before I could ask him exactly what he meant by that he got a call on his cell and was off.

Will To Power

I took Sofia (who prefers to be called Sasha) and Analucia to the Martin Acres Park. Sasha was running around talking to strangers while I was feeding Analucia. I saw a group of three boys, about 5 years old. One boy was leading the other two in a game of pretend. They were pretending a large metal structure was a dinosaur fossil. When the leader touched the fossil the dinosaur came to life and the boys ran away screaming. Boys are obsessed with dinosaurs and trucks. Why? Because they are big and powerful. A few minutes later and the leader is picking up sand in his hands and says, "This is power. Here, have some". He pours a little power into each boys hands. One boy picks up a pinecone and says, "this is MY power". The leader says, "that isn't power! This is power," and he picks up some more sand in his hands. He tries to give some to the boy with the pinecone, but the boy doesn't want it. So the leader gives away some of his power to the third boy who takes it. Then the leader offers his sand once again to the boy with the pinecone. This time, not wanting to be left out, the boy drops the pinecone and takes some sand. At this point a fourth boy, maybe three years old, comes over and holds out his hands for some power. The leader gives him some. A few minutes later, as the first three are already off doing something else, the fourth younger boy is still standing there looking down at his power, smiling. This is the way our minds and societies are formed from its earliest stages of development. We have a primal will to have and control power.

A grandfatherly gentleman comes over and sits on our bench. He says hi and then out of nowhere, "Are you between jobs?" I want to say, this is a job! But I just say I work from home and am therefore lucky enough to be able to take a break and hang out with my girls in the park. He says, "Well, you're doing it right. You're treating them like children instead of little midgets. That's the reason my three year old grandson is living with us, because my son treats him like a little midget."

Before I could ask him exactly what he meant by that he got a call on his cell and was off.

Memoir notes

On an acid trip in the early 90's I saw Marilyn Monroe's face in the moon. You can see it yourself next time there is a full moon. The dark patch on the lower left of the moon is her lips. Her mouth is slightly open, tongue against the top lip, in ecstacy. You can even see Marilyn's mole, if you squint. Once you see it you can never not see it again. A couple years ago I was at a Warhol show at th

e De Young in San Francisco. In the first room there was a large blank white disc lit up like a moon. Next to it was another white disc the same size, but this one had Marilyn's face silk screened on it. Suddenly I was convinced Warhol had seen the same image of Marilyn on the moon I saw and had recreated it as a work of art. In the moment of discovering Warhol shared my secret I felt no degree of separation.