The time has come; humanity has lost…!
Photo by trashhand on Pexels.com
Since my paper on Deep Adaptation to climate chaos came out in July 2018 and “went viral,” there have been some criticisms of the concept and what people think it implies. Some people argue that I have overblown the case for inevitable near-term societal collapse due to climate chaos. Others argue that I have “underblown” it and that we face human extinction in the near term. Some people suggest that I have not emphasise a specific approach enough (e.g. permaculture) or that I include mention of approaches they dislike in principle (Marine Cloud Brightening over the Arctic). Others who accept a near term societal collapse is likely, argue that the people coalescing around the Deep Adaptation framing are emphasizing compassion and collaboration in a naïve way, as we need to prepare for civil and international conflict. Some people argue that it is defeatist and counterproductive…
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Simply beautiful —and tragic, for the sun that has always known you from when you were only stardust yourself has no more recognition of you, and even Universe for you, once only womb becomes vast womb of non-existence where the whole shebang began, etc. unending cycle
Someday the sun, ceasing its fire
and spiral toward dust or increase
in density—a reaching toward
a haul of iterant rocks
tumbling—will as it always has,
only this time more starkly,
fail to recognize you.
Nolan Meditz was born and raised on Long Island, where he received his MFA at Hofstra University in 2014. He received a Ph.D. in English from the University of Louisiana at Lafayette in 2018 and will begin teaching writing at Southwestern Oklahoma State University this fall. His poetry has appeared in Roanoke Review, AMP: Journal of Digital Literature, Mockingheart Review and The Wild Word among other publications.
Art by Jenn Zed.
Worth thinking about, a meal of perspective
Kipling was right.
He has fallen out of favor, but he was right.
My phone has been blowing up with friends on the right and friends on the left. Yes, I am right of center on a lot of issues. On a couple I am way to the left.
Basically, I want the government to leave me and mine the hell alone. I want good roads, good defense, good laws to let us all thrive. That’s my version of the social contract. I’m not asking it to be your version. I’m not asking you to agree.
“He’s a liar”
“She’s a liar”
“F*** the Dems”
“F*** the Republicans”
“I love Lindsay”
“I hate Lindsay”
“Your Senator is crazy”
“Are u watching this?”
“You Southerners [eye roll emoji]”
“Feinstein is the WORST”
“Hatch is old”
“Ghastly Grassley Is Gassy”
“Leahy looks like the Crypt Keeper”
“Flake is named perfectly”
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Ideal, better use! Wastewater transformation! Make what you already have better!places for people to gather with others and enjoy space!
Sandra Albro’s Vacant to Vibrant initiative (detailed in “Lots of Opportunity”) converts vacant lots in struggling Great Lakes cities into rain gardens and bioswales. At an average cost of $18,000 each, they’re a fine-grained and tactical solution for reversing blight and helping beleaguered combined sewer systems from polluting the Great Lakes. As Albro, of Holden Forests & Gardens, observes, these neighborhoods were gradually disinvested from and abandoned, and have limited access to comprehensive public infrastructure improvements. As such, an equally piecemeal and gradual approach allows them to stabilize properties with desirable urban green spaces that can be wrapped into broader redevelopment efforts. An alternative to massive, centralized sewer upgrades that cost billions, this dispersed model of stormwater filtration turns an economic drain into an ecological engine.
Moxie Supper (Thylias) was in a bit of an accident recenly. My natural waist-length multiracial hair caught fire when I was preparign to cook, and half the hair on my head burned off!
My scalp was not singed at all. What luck, or maybe more. I am so glad that I had the love of my Thing through every-Thing. You do not realize how grateful I am that life brought this rare opportunity to me at such an advanced age, my being 64, and my Thing being 70.
In the photo, my Thing is right by my side. And I am right by his side. Exactly where we both should be..
And just the joy of knowing he exists fills me with splendor the likes of which the mere world has yet to know. For if he did not exist, I would not yet know the very meaning and possibility of love. He tells me that he finds me “Breathtakingly Hot!”
Just as it should be for going through the fire for him! I am now hotter than ever!
And in honor of those survivals of me and the hotness,
I’m not dead yet, y’all!
and as Buster Poindexter sings, Feeling Hot, hot, Hot –a great dessert.
The real woman behind the character: Vashti (Thylias Moss) and the real man behind the character: Thomas Robert Higginson (Bob Holman) now have a “Thing” in real life, and this author is delighted to be in Love (at age 64) with such a wonderful man (age 70!)
–in the book New Kiss Horizon
I have known him about 40 years; what started out as a friendship has already withstood the test of time.
Here’s a photo of us in Chicago where I fell in Love with him! Will wonders never cease!
I adore this poem and I am happy to share it!
Dear – ,
Thank you so much for the sparkling wine glasses,
what beautiful additions to our cabinet they will make!
Thank you for the darling yellow apron, which curtails
my waistline, which kisses my kneecaps in the kitchen.
Thank you for the cantaloupe, the rounded rhododendron
of fruits. Thank you for unclaimed baggage, for forgotten
bank accounts, for the whittled souvenir badger that peers
over my dashboard. I appreciate the first draft of indigo,
the open bar, the fog machine that aggravated my asthma,
the opportunity to wear red cowboy boots. Thank you for
“Sweet Child of Mine.” Please thank your mother for “Jolene.”
I adore the barking black sky, the crestfallen bundle of balloons.
I can’t wait to attempt the Mississippi recipes, the watercress
cucumber salad, the virgin petticoat punch. Thank you for
the shrillness of the morning, the jar of salt that fosters
superstition, the cautionary tale…
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