April 2014 Update

Dark clouds on the psychic horizon. As an ex-pat, one apparently needs to be penalized through the consequences of ‘American Exceptionalism’ for daring not to live in the US and wishing to set up a life somewhere else. American imperialism is real, though I doubt if the majority of the country are at all aware of that thanks to MSM control, suppressed information and inaccurate news coverage. I was horrified recently to read that viewers of MSNBC are only a notch above Fox News viewers with regard to international news awareness. The upshot for me of ‘citizen-based taxation’ (only the US, Eritrea and possibly North Korea) rather than ‘residence-based taxation’ along with ‘American-exceptional-taxation’ will be the wipe out of our emergency fund that had been intended for either eventual medical costs or old-age comforts (not both). On Easter Sunday, a spectacularly beautiful day in Amsterdam despite the forecast for heavy rain, Richard and I went for a walk and swung by the Oude Schans at one point, where after enquiring about a mentor and my first lover, Johannes ‘Joop’ Slagter, that he had died last July. I had wondered since I had not heard from him for a long time. But he was a marvelous independent thinker who loathed the cold and was eventually diagnosed with both pancreatic cancer and leukemia. Neither could be treated without worsening the other. He had left the Midi for the Canary Islands where he ended his days. He was 30 and I 21 when we met. He drew a diagram for me to find his one-room apartment on the Prinsengracht and handed me his keys. There had to be at least 50 keys on the chain, and he laughed as he handed them to me saying that they made him feel “important.” There was a trust he had for me right from the start, and in his apartment I found records of all my favourite musics from Ravel & Debussy to Billie Holiday. The wonders of the times, the bottom half of my knapsack was filled with peyote, and the following weekend we consumed. What ensued was the highest peak I have ever attained, and I can still remember wondering why did this need to happen so early in my life – everything would be less hereafter. Perhaps that has not been true, but I still recall when we stepped outside into the nighttime Amsterdam summer fog in which every falling drop of water was a meteoritic streak of dazzling light. Dressed in ankle-length World War I military overcoats, we marveled over how the Polynesian idols in the window of the Lemaire gallery which at that time was next door ‘saw’ and recognized us. He has always been a good friend, a sensitive and free spirit and an aesthetic rebel. Joop Slagter (29.5.31 – 25.7.13): http://www.grootsneek.nl/84929/oud-sneker-dichter-joop-slagter-overleden/

The agony over the impending loss of funds has most to do with what that money will support, namely, the corporate-military overreach of an oligarchy representing a contemporary reinstatement of feudalism. Even as one of the 10%, I am still a serf in the economic autocracy otherwise known as American globalism. The daily news from the coup in the Ukraine to the civil war in Syria let alone the end of the democratic experiment of Egypt, the Muslim insurgencies in Nigeria and the Central African Republic, the hopelessness in both Iraq and Afghanistan, the technological ‘accidents’ involving MH370 and the Korean ferry disaster, Monsanto’s GMOs, the fracking and global warming, etc. all sicken me. American imperialistic exceptionalism is not necessarily behind each and every one of these, but its mismanagement, its interference, its deceit, its arrogance and the pathetic loss of its original ideals have all contributed to the anti-reactions we now all encounter on the world stage. To be a powerless pawn in the legacy of Americanism is a frightening and sobering situation. The irony of ironies, however, was when I went to the annual meeting of Democrats Abroad for their elucidation concerning FACTA & FBAR and walked out afterwards as a ‘converted’ Republican – despite my remaining liberal Marxist sympathies.

For the rest, and there is always the rest, there are still for whatever moment yet remains the encounters with blessed others. It was truly wonderful to have overlapped in Amsterdam with my daughter Chloe. Trying and amazing at times, for sure, but I feel that for the first time I got to know to some extent this fascinating young adult. She has now returned to London, and I have missed her. At the moment our Woody and his Lily are here for the Easter break. Youth is its own beauty and freshness that allow the rest of us a smidgeon of hope and promise. And Swamiji has taken up again a brief residence in the souterrain – providing an always interesting dialogue let alone remembrances of my Palm Springs catastrophe. There have been dinners with Bart and Liat, Vicky and Fred, Jim and Amr, Santima, Carole, Faye, Monica, Jacky, Lily, Jean-Christophe and Carlo, Rachida and Thomas, and Warren as well as visits from Leilani and Nel and Rix and Sylvester. For the present month, it has been the April nefasti cleansing offering which ends tomorrow with the Vinalia Priora on the 23rd. Our weather has been surprisingly fine even if still on the cool side, but we are expecting rain for most of the rest of the week – including for this coming Saturday’s ‘King’s Day’ celebrations. My feeling in all of this is what will be will be. Richard continues to be the great and needed support through virtually everything. I have been able to complete a first draft of an article on Indra for Oxford Online, may have had my Pagan Ethics manuscript accepted for publication and am almost finished with the Pagan Mysticism manuscript as well. I still long for the freedom of visiting museums and going to the cinema at will and even spontaneously. We did find ourselves last week viewing Richard Mosse’s six-screen video The Enclave at the Foam filmed in North and South Kinu in the eastern part of the Democratic Republic of Congo making misery and horror in some strange way aesthetic. So we continue for as long and as well as we can and remain grateful to the gods, our friends and whatever luck of the draw there has been and still continues.