-Ecclesiastes 3:1


-Leo Tolstoy



Every now and again (at least once a year), I try and make a concise effort to demonstrate affection towards my ole Born-Again Borelli.

This morning, as the alarm went off to NPR, a calming radio commentator voice thoughtfully asked the question,

“Who is the most important person in your life?”

Sweeeeeeet…..perfect opportunity to plug my annual effort to demonstrate affection…just fell in my lap..what unprecedented serendipity..

I ever-so-slowly and lovingly placed my hand on Sean’s shoulder–batting my eyes to add (just a pinch of) sultry to the performance. He beamed back a very approving smile of positive affirmation and reciprocity.

It was real Precious Moments’ shit….then…the radio commentator voice interrupts,

“Well, one day they will die…and death is not discussed openly enough in this culture.”

errrrrr….uggghhhh….FAIL….okay,  play it cool, Marebear…don’t look him straight in the eye, you wicked little she-devil…damn, too late…

Sean’s eyes WIDENED FREAKISHLY and he instantaneously swatted my hand off his shoulder, decrying I put some witchcraft–omen–curse–touch of death on him..and that I did it (allegedly) on purpose.

well I never…the nerve…ungrateful, sheepish boy…here I am trying to show a little appreciation…how was I supposed to know the Good Lord had chosen little-ole-me to be his stunning-sexy-sweet-cherub-like messenger of doom?

Well, it was time to make the most of an (admittedly) questionable situation…

I proffered a sinister laugh, and y’know, just decided to play along into Sean’s fears that maybe I did know what was coming. I (coyly) asked Seanie-boi if he wanted to talk about it and share his fears. I figured I might as well transmute this (gross) miscalculation into a little calculated control capital to cash up at some later date in time.

Moral of the story, my friends? Leave the effort to demonstrate affection to push-overs and saints. When you love the shit out of someone for being just the way they are, don’t tell them (in fact, keep it top-secret, bottle it up and bury it deep down and way back in the recesses of your mind). Make them think you are in it for the money…or the drugs…or some compelling combination of both.



(A) What's the point in ever trying, nothing changes anyway.
 (B) What's the point in ever trying, everything changes anyway.
 (C) What's the point in never trying, nothing changes anyway.
 (D) What's the point in never trying, everything changes anyway.
I subscribe to (D) most times, (C) sometimes, (B) every now and again, and (A) never.

-The Shins, lyrics: ‘Gone for Good’

Compliments of feminist philosophy,

I am aware of the  violent nature of heterosexual intercourse in modern day patriarchal societies.

That said, I am also ‘kept real’ by observing other non-human males in the Animal Kingdom.

What am I talking about?

One word: LIFE

One sexy-sweet commentator: Oprah Winfrey

Two disturbing facts:

(1) Male Darwin’s Stag Beetle– these adorable little critters claw their way up trees towards their target female partner, flipping-tossing-shoving fellow male beetles off the tall branches while en route. Finally, once the male beetle has his missus all backed up into a corner, he forcibly mounts her and the traditional rape ceremony ensues. Probably due to the insecurity of his ever-so-brief sexual excursion, he then decides to toss his missus off the tree branch as well (instead of talking through the guilt and the shame…..you have to talk through the guilt and the shame..), and she then falls a good forty or fifty feet to her doom.

(2) Male Dawson Bees– these charmers attack and gang bang female Dawson Bees, fighting each other over who gets to repeat rape their bride the most until (literally) all the males have killed each other in the process–this often ends in the collateral death of the female as well. In the wholesome clip Ms. Winfrey was so kind to narrate, the female Dawson beetle is killed and decapitated (camera zoom in on her furry little decapitated head) post enduring gang rape scenario.

-G. W. F. Hegel

-DCC, lyrics

Every Time I meet Past in passing, I remember some of how much I have forgotten.
I am not entirely sure of the long term ramifications of selective memory or creative recall.
I don't think I compromise my Self in the process more than is necessary to flourish spiritually.
What about Others? I am not so sure. I always hope for patience and understanding.

Leon Trotsky Quotes


“Life is not an easy matter… You cannot live through it without falling into frustration and cynicism unless you have before you a great idea which raises you above personal misery, above weakness, above all kinds of perfidy and baseness.”

“The historic ascent of humanity, taken as a whole, may be summarized as a succession of victories of consciousness over blind forces — in nature, in society, in man himself.”

“The dialectic is neither fiction or mysticism, but a science of the forms of our thinking insofar as it is not limited to the daily problems of life but attempts to arrive at an understanding of more complicated and drawn-out processes. The dialectic and formal logic bear a relationship similar to that between higher and lower mathematics.”

“Dialectical materialism is not of course an eternal and immutable philosophy. To think otherwise is to contradict the spirit of the dialectic. Further development of scientific thought will undoubtedly create a more profound doctrine into which dialectical materialism will enter merely as structural material.”

Coin Toss


Well I tried to make it Sunday, but I got so damn depressed,
That I set my eyes on Monday, and  I got myself undressed.
-lyrics, Sister Golden Hair

blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
la la la la la la dee da

I ain't going to wait for traffic.
I ain't going to wait for sane.
I ain't going to wait for lovely.
I'll just go against the grain.

Drum roll, please.
Please, tell me she is high.
No, she is fine-- relatively speaking.

Word on the Street


The affable Bor-Bor is shopping around for a blog of his own. Two words, my friends: bad news. Why? Well, let's just say NOW the un-filtered, un-biased, un-muddied, seamless, and truthful lens of reality by which I account the day to day going-ons of my humble abode may be challenged by the feverish insecurities of a Jesus-impersonating fiend of a lad and his little apprentice, the young Hans Bobenstein.

…where it starts off pretty normal and you’re maybe just in a slight daze and your dad calls because he needs a ‘quick favor’ and next thing you know you are re-arranging your work schedule and traveling for three hours–and then he is all like ‘perfect , good girl’ and you are like, ‘yay, my dad loves me a little bit, maybe’ and then BAMMM you just bought him a brand new Porsche….because I just had one of those days..

Let’s tune in…

Sean (real-time recording):

Did you hear that, Bobo? The savages are kneeling for us in defeat…


Fighting this one for the Emperor..

(exaggerated Japanese accent) Arrrrhhhhhhoooo-hooo Arttttiiiiiwwweeeerrriieeee…
(probable translation: Oh, artillery)

Killed’ya ya dumb bitch. He thought he got me..and I just killed him.

Who convinced you guys it was safe to climb up this ladder? I still killed them.

I am fucked. Oh, there he is. Someone got up here. Interesting.

(exaggerated Japanese accent) Arrrrrhheeeweee finnndddddemmmmm sooooooo goooood (probable translation: Oh, we are going to find them so good).

Orrrhhhhh-urrrrhhhhh daay subbbbbmeeeeet, subbbmmeeeeta soo gooood (Oh, they submit. Submit so good).

Oorrrrhhhhhh eeeeeess reeeeaaaa goood celebraccciiooon–celebrraaaatte long time…weee gonnaaa celebrraaaate reaaaaaahh gooood (Oh, this is a real good celebration. Celebrate long time. We gonna celebrate real good).



How ironic, of all colors to get stuck on, I become infatuated by your gray.
And I'm stuck trying to think in rainbow colored strokes about your gray in my black and white dreams.
You are not going to make the necessary adjustments.
Fixated. Belated. You don't owe me a reason. Right on. Peace out. Please, get a little weak and rambunctious.
You'll lose me, loose me, lousy left-overs.
Which are sometimes the best part. Which are always the only part you can crave.
How perfect, of all the colors to get stuck on, you become infatuated with my rainbow colors.
And you're stuck trying to think in gray strokes about my rainbow colors in your black and white dreams.
I'll make the necessary adjustments.
I'll become fluent in gray. You will love it and you will love me for it.
And just like the rainbow colors I acquired, the gray that I will come to appreciate so, will one day no longer be enough to satiate me--and I will compromise yet again. And I will evolve. And I will diversify. Outwards, onwards, exponentially and into infinity.
And you cannot be mad at me or sad at me, you know. You didn't want to learn rainbow speak, remember?
You thought it crude,  ambiguous, and much too compromising for your sophisticated and refined gray scale.

-lyrics, Bon Iver

I know it doesn’t feel real and there is an impulse to distort, in order to do just slightly more than survive–to thrive. Navigating between the alternate reality frames, do not feel too lonely or too devious. Do not be angered, if slightly bothered, by a mild ambivalence or some vague sense of guilt. I urge you, Dreamer, to investigate that Ms. Clavel-like, ‘something is just not right’–sometimes, mild–sometimes, throbbing–sometimes-maybe-behind-the-cobwebs-in-the-recesses-of-that-beautiful-mind-of-yours trace of a thought experiment you’re not remembering just quite how to forget for just this instant of a moment.  Seize it, the right-the good–the possibility of finding Truth in experiential freedom– that does not betray even the most cursed of Dystopian realists because, ‘that’s all there is; there isn’t anymore.’


Fellow Traveler

True Dat 2


(1) “Language… has created the word “loneliness” to express the pain of being alone. (1a) And it has created the word “solitude” to express the glory of being alone.” -Paul Tillich

(2) “Remember, we are all in this alone.” -Lily Tomlin

(3) “If you are lonely when you’re alone, you are in bad company”.  -Jean-Paul Sartre

I subscribe to (3) and (1a). I guess it’s on my mind because Ole papa-bear recently disclosed (in a moment of unusual candidness and sincerity) what amounts to a monumental fear of being alone. I assured him he has plenty of people surrounding him that love him–but there is an intuitive sense in him (or so is my hunch) that you cannot truly love what you must sometimes fear AND that you cannot truly love what cannot truly love you back, unconditionally, as you are. He is smart, even if he is not aware, and he can sense these tensions. I didn’t feel like I was offering reassuring words or poignant advice and, upon reflection, I wondered if the disconnect was resultant of an inability to relate on my part. I thought to myself, f*** sincerity, this man needs some words of encouragement and the rejuvenation of a false sense of hope…A.S.A.P.—but even my BS (which is usually on the money)–was sub-par. Alright, be humorous (at least) Mare-bear, give the man a freek’n bone…

Mary: You know what they say Dad, if you are lonely when you are alone, it just means you might be in bad company. I chuckle ..social cue..to indicate a joke has been made.

Atef: What? doesn’t know what the hell his daughter may be blubbering on about, doesn’t matter, as long as she can keep from drooling on herself just long enough to attract a mate..and  procreate. I just think I would feel better with a grandchild. You’re old now..

Mary: 25? old? errrrr muutheerf**…

Atef: Exactly. Not a baby. A grandchild would solve so many problems. It would take away my loneliness. seven hundred geisha-boys wouldn’t take away your loneliness..

Mary: Keep that up and I’m going to have to tell you the truth about me, dad–that I’m a big, fat LESBIAN. I like girls, that’s my thing. good, got that off my chest, technically..

Atef:  displaying the ‘you always find new ways to disappoint me look’ So silly. Ok baby, drive safe. Think about what I said. Just think about it.

Factors to consider:
(1) Your ‘partner’ towers over you at above 6 ft.
 (2) You ‘partner’ bears an (uncanny) resemblance to our Lord and Savior, His Majesty, Jesus Christ—and he can
 gather his shee-ple to crusade against you.

Must beat white man at his reindeer games.

Halloween Exchange


I picked Sean up from work Sunday (he was in full In-Motion uniform–keep in mind), on Ole Hallow’s Eve (does anyone call it that? No? Too bad, it’s catchy). We had no plans, and let’s just say, sommmeboddddy had a wee bit of an attitude–

Sean: Man, it’s Halloween.
Mary: Aww, boo-boo, do you still want to go trick-
Sean: Noooooo (intonation indicates ‘yesssssss’).
Mary: Look, if you really want to go, I’ll take you–but I’m
not dressing up.
Sean: And what’s my costume? I’ll just go door to door,
‘Oh hey, trick-or-treat–what am I for Halloween,
you ask?–Oh, you know, I’m just your modern day
wage-slave laborer, home from a long day of work.’