Charles Baudelaire.(1821-1867) Condemned Women (Femmes Dmnees) Imitated from the French - Fragment

Like moody beasts they lie along the sands;

Look where the sky against the sea-rim clings:

Foot stretches out to foot, and groping hands

Have languors soft and bitter shudderings.


Some, smitten hearts with the long secrecies,

On velvet moss, deep in the bowers' ease,

Prattling the love of timid infancies,

Are tearing the green bark from the young trees.


Others, like sisters slowly walk and grave;

By rocks that swarm with ghostly legions,

Where anthony saw surging on the waves

The purple breasts of his temptations.
-tr. John Gray, Silverpoints (1893)

 * The title of this poem is often translated as "Lesbians"
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I saw a new better TV at the donut shop with a science channel so.

Maybe the world is getting better.

Also pulling out of Afghanistan means money and energy freed up for making a difference in the war on terrorism with out using outdated models of dealing with confict and social problems.  I say this because the super violence we are capable of is very different then the Korean War for example.  As times change we adapt so human rights violations are not commited.  Learning with a more complex understanding of what is meant by modern military equipment is helpful.  Doing good in war torn countries should be natural.  I am for a better world.  Lets do it.
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It seems so but no no no

I have that right to walk away

To do what I want

As my life is my own

I am no animal

Leave me alone.
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This is real life not a video game. No rioting.



I would rather an earthquake happened.  Selfish, crazy, and now the mess is really a year or more to heal, including police who are people, have families and are connected by degrees just like the entire bay area is.  The ptsd is already a reality.  You guys got to chill out.
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Another A+ read, dive in! The Tall Thin Man—what a striking, enigmatic figure! Spanning posts from Warmest Winds and Magic V, he’s a towering presence (literally, over seven feet!) who strides through a patchwork of surreal scenes, blending menace, charisma, and absurdity. Let’s unpack this character and see what he’s all about. Right off the bat, he’s got this commanding aura. “To you I am like a God,” he declares in that 2019 poem, bending his knee with a jolt, reaching for the sky in a “big try” for victory. He’s not just tall and thin—he’s larger-than-life, a self-proclaimed deity with a hard edge. That violin he wields like a dark sorcerer, playing haunting melodies that seduce juries, whip crowds into frenzies, or soothe bloodied drummers—it’s his signature, a tool of power and chaos. He’s no passive bystander; he’s the puppet master, grinning under lamp posts at moths or slipping through cracks in reality. Yet there’s a restlessness to him. He’s always on the move—striding across environments, heading west to saloons, or vanishing down winding stairs past alligator bridges to munch a ham sandwich (that detail kills me—it’s so mundane yet bizarre). He’s got zeppelins and giant air balloons by 2025, suggesting he’s evolving, maybe even conquering new heights—literal and metaphorical. But for all his grandeur, he’s tied to the shadows. He emerges from them, looms in alleys, or stands as an “old convict” in the rain, bitter and less kind. Is he free, or trapped in his own myth? His interactions with others hint at duality. To some, he’s a guide—telling a poker-rich wanderer to “Go West!” or gesturing toward a glowing green door, stripping you of hat and coat like a cryptic usher. To others, he’s a terror—“your worst fear,” shattering minds, competing with unnamed rivals. Magic V’s posts toy with his nature: Devil or God? The question lingers, unanswered. He’s both, maybe—savage yet delicate, playful yet brutal. That dance with the violin, making you behave foolishly, feels like a trap you can’t resist. His world’s a feverish blend of the wild and the urban. Rabbits race, snakes slither into cities, drones mix with drums, and colors turn orange and purple in a reality-warping mashup with Bill Hole and James Bond at an “Anti Trans event” (what?). It’s chaotic, almost apocalyptic, yet he thrives in it. That 2016 “smelly city” line and the 2023 blood-soaked drumming scene suggest decay and violence, but he’s unfazed—alive, victorious, always returning with a “Ha!” like some immortal trickster. What do I make of him? The Tall Thin Man’s a force—part myth, part nightmare, part showman. He’s not just tall and thin; he’s stretched across dimensions, a lanky specter of ego and mystery. I see him as a chaotic neutral—neither wholly good nor evil, but a catalyst, stirring up whatever he touches. His violin’s the key: it’s how he bends the world, from juries to mad hatters. He’s got a touch of the Pied Piper, a dash of the Devil at the crossroads, and a whole lot of swagger. Compared to Bill Hole, he’s less human, more elemental. Bill’s a quirky everyman fumbling through absurdity; the Tall Thin Man’s the absurdity itself, orchestrating it. I’d wager he’s what Bill might fear—or secretly admire.