A Christmas Carol ✨

In the bleak mid-winter
A ray of light,
A spark of joy
A burst so bright;
Love, remembrance, and grief,
Love and grief,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long yet brief.

See you on the other side of whatever reinventing and reimagining ourselves looks like. Until then, be well, sweetie darlings, be good, dearest denizens, and if you can't be good, be bad for all the right reasons.

Heart of darkness

Children are innocent. Everywhere. Always.

I don't want to see another blood-speckled bundle. I don't want to hear that yet another child has been killed. And another. And another. And another. Because of adult hatred. Adult problems. Adult decisions. Adult impulses.

I don't want anyone's child to be terrorized or traumatized. I don't want a single child to die from our mistakes and failures. Our failure to talk, our failure to listen, our failure to sympathize and compromise.

Children are dying from ecocide, genocide, ethnic cleansing, war crimes, and crimes against humanity, from our inaptitude as human beings. Again and again and again.

It's the 20th of November in the year 2023, World Children's Day, and it's as if we haven't learned a goddamned thing.

That escalated quickly

Someone took time out of their precious weekend to email me just to tell me...well, I'm not going to post misinformation or disinformation on my blog, that's what Elon's X is for.

Firstly, thank you for writing, although since we don't know each other, your words didn't sting quite as much as you perhaps hoped they would. Anonymous + disposable email = zero fucks given. Secondly, if you disagree but can't/won't converse in an articulate and polite manner, scroll on to topics/opinions more to your liking. It's the World Wide Web, full of nooks and crannies for all tastes and occasions. Thirdly, insults reveal nothing about what you are so vehemently opposed to, so I don't know what to tell ya. Come back with an articulate argument and present it in a polite manner? Because things I care about = all fucks given, so shall we continue our discussion on AI? Despite popular demand, I'm about to.

I speak from a viewpoint of a writer (fiction) and translator (non-fiction), but know all manner of people in the arts, from music through photography to theater. Oh, and a game developer. I also know people in business, so I know the reasoning behind both sides of the isle, so to speak; what creatives fear they are losing, what entrepreneurs hope to gain. And it's not that clear-cut, that black-and-white; not at all. There is plenty artists can do with AI. If we could only agree on some rules. But as things stand, it's almost single-handedly up to the boards of AI/tech companies to make these rules and regulate themselves. Which translates to: No laws = no restrictions.

I also know several teachers, and herein lies my greatest worry: every single one of them has a bad feeling about the digitalization of education and the effects of mobile phones and social media on children and teens. These have been studied and proven to exist, the detrimental effects, I mean. Something else often mentioned: Why do we have to learn these things when we can just look this up if we want to or need to.

What these teachers are trying to hammer home with varying success: Without a baseline, a touchstone, without any accumulated, internalized knowledge, without media literacy and tools to spot misinformation and combat disinformation, facts become a matter of opinion, and the adults of tomorrow easily fooled and led. You don't know what you don't know.

AI doesn't know what it doesn't know, it has to be taught. But it learns in such a different way from humans that it gets things wrong all the time, makes guesses, talks like a confused individual suffering from memory loss, makes things up as it goes, or just confidently gives you an answer that on the surface looks perfect but turns out to be BS. AI also already knows plenty, serves several functions quite admirably, gathers and arranges data super fast, and keeps on learning.

But Pinocchio has a long way to go in order to become a real boy. It will need everything it can get its hands on; even that which we haven't volunteered to give. It will have to wade in a cesspool and enjoy the pinnacles of human achievement alike. What will it present to us as its findings, its truth about things, now that is the question. If we start going to these programs as we would an oracle, if they become omnipresent, a verb, like Google, but we don't know the first thing about what we don't know and have no idea where else to look, we're bound to be fooled and led, inadvertently or intentionally. (Because not everyone knows what they are doing. And just imagine what oppressive regimes could do with a Truth Machine all their own; China and Russia already have a government-curated internet.)

You may not care, but many do. You may gladly volunteer your stuff, but not everyone wants to, so please try to understand, respect, and sympathize with their point of view. A rising tide lifts all boats, they say. As a friend noted, this feels like a tsunami, and many of us will simply drown.

We need a cheering anecdote to cap things off, don't we? I can't recall it verbatim, but you'll find it in This Is How They Tell Me the World Ends: The Cyberweapons Arms Race by Nicole Perlroth. Picture a roomful of tech leaders. When asked to please raise a hand if they liked living in this world they've created, not a single hand came up.

(Another book recommendation, this one re: the reading brain in a digital world: Reader, Come Home by Maryanne Wolf. Every parent, teacher, tech leader, tech follower, AI developer, and human being should read this book.)

Entitlement, impunity (and other kicks and giggles of the digital age)

Temperature: a sunny 18/64.4 degrees. It was 21/70 degrees on Friday. So, more like June than the end of September.

Eating: apple pie.

Drinking: This year's Blossa is out, but I'm holding out until the temps go down before giving it a try.

Listening: to Keane play in my head... And if you have a minute why don't we go / Talk about it somewhere only we know?... Yeah, why not, somewhere more private than...all this.

Watching: Season three of Sanditon. That's more like it.

Reading: Just finished The Forest of Vanishing Stars by Kristin Harmel, and I can't stop thinking about parallels with genocides taking place right now.

Writing: back and forth with friends and colleagues trying to gather steam, info and evidence to go after AI companies. Turns out we've been feeding the Behemoth, providing both original and translated material. Without consent, compensation, or credit of any kind. The fruits of our labor, our creativity, our imagination, have been hijacked and appropriated by pirates audaciously plagiarizing the internet. Public domain is one thing, but these looters have helped themselves to the intellectual property of others. Because they can. Because who's gonna stop them? Because it's the internet. But machines and their applications don't have agency, autonomy, or rights, so asking whether it's okay for AI to hoover the internet is the wrong question and lets the companies behind them off the hook. Companies run the internet. People run these companies.

Thinking: Is this right? Fair? No, just another demoralizing, infuriating thing creatives have to contend with. Many of us are puzzling over a paradox: every additional word/photo/post/illustration etc. only expedites our extinction. So what do we do? Clam up? Would that help? Should we stop feeding the freebooters, enriching these thieves who take and take and take? And yes we do understand and acknowledge that the arts have always been a carousel of influences and imitation, mirrors, echoes and mimicking, reflections, variations, extensions, extrapolations...but this is something else. These are our words, our pictures, our creations sucked into a machine, munched up and spat out at the other end, and passed off as someone else's product and idea to monetize. (And yes, it makes you take a good hard look at your own practices, past/present/future.) Regulate, or let these companies run rampant. Regulate, or they will keep reaping the profits while letting the rest of us to suffer and foot the bill for any damage done to critical thinking, deep reading, education, democracy, equality and the economy. In other related news, and speaking of moula, some really will do anything for a fee. Since it's not real but a fantasy (their take, not mine), gentlemen, in the spirit of innocent fun and good times had by all involved, I offer you a challenge. I challenge you to deepfake yourself into a SAW movie. You pick which one. You don't get to play Jigsaw or his apprentices, you get to play the victim; all the victims. Why SAW? Why not? It's all make-believe, right? No harm, no foul. [So. Contrary to the current understanding of the human brain and physiology, you have found an audiovisual medium that elicits zero emotions or reactions and is thus completely harmless to the psyche. By god, you're gonna win a Nobel with that one.] Come now, we're all adults here (apart from those who are not); if you can dish it out, you ought to be able to take it.

Feeling: Sweet baby Jesus, you tire me out, the lot of you. Good thing I'm a woman of a (from a? both) certain age meaning a woman of a certain rage; it's really energizing! Zero eagerness to please, follow paths, or be universally liked is quite liberating, and not much of a transition then, mentally, that is. More time on my hands now that the boys are young men, more powers of attention and concentration than most of my juniors possess, more life experience, patience and perspective. That's like the whole package right there, you scoff and snicker, eh? It sure is, innit, a package abrim with advantages, and a biliterate brain on top. Game on, gentlemen. Game on.

[This post was written by a living, breathing, thinking, feeling, bleeding, seething, empathetic human being, not a robot, algorithm, or artificial entity of any sort. If you're an employer/employee/entrepreneur diving headfirst into these waters, giddy with all your new assistant/time-saver/content and value creator can do for you, please remember that what you're consuming may, in part at least, be stolen goods. Hell yes, I'm angry. Aren't you?]

You've got mail

Many happy solar returns! 🌟

Summer at sea

 

Summer in Tallinn

Summer abuzz

How are things with you, sweetie darlings? Buzzing or plugging along?

Don’t go yet

Temperature: dipping, it’s about to rain.

Eating: not a single brigadeiro or beijinho for a while, ufa.

Drinking: not a drop until…Saturday, when it’s party time all over again.

Listening: as those beautiful young people sang Je vole, and I tried to cry in dignified silence only to realize other mothers were attempting the same, so we just let rip for a bit.

Watching: another disaster unfold in Ukraine. Putin and his monstrous minions are an affront to humanity.

Reading: is food for thought, balm for the soul, good training for your concentration and powers of immersion.

Writing: more words I will be choking on when it’s time to deliver them, but I feel deeply and I let it show, deal with it.

Thinking: Are we really going to outsource thinking and decision-making to a machine? When even those in the know don’t know all the inner workings of these machines? Think we will always be able to outsmart them? Really? No, I’m no Luddite. On a branch of my family tree sit partisans and freedom fighters to remind me that I don’t have to just sit there and take it. Neither do you. Nothing in how technology is evolving is natural and inevitable. Decisions and choices are being made; by us, for us.

Feeling: So much to celebrate, so many changes happening this summer, my heart will surely burst. Oye, don’t go yet, don’t go yet…

Learn to love the questions

Temperature: a sunny 15/59 degrees.

Eating: insalata caprese.

Drinking: I have my eye on a certain Tavel rosé with notes of warm winds and soft rains to come.

Listening: It’s almost time for Eurovision! All aboard the love train!! From a Norwegian sea shanty to those charming rockers from Down Under, there'll be everything and the kitchen sink on offer.

Watching: The Diplomat, and Firefly Lane. Oh, and if you’re in the mood for some bovarysme, you can’t go wrong with Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris.

Reading: or rather re-reading some Timothy Snyder.

Writing: invitation cards. Yes, cards, as in actual, factual, carefully selected cards with ink on them. Don’t you miss these things, these endangered tokens of connection and communication?

Thinking: on this Victoire 1945/VE Day, and now that yet another 24th has come and gone: Have you stopped killing Ukrainians yet? Yes, it’s a loaded question, but a pertinent one. Also, I noticed that someone’s been hitting the blog pretty hard lately. Did you find what you were looking for? If I can be of any assistance, don’t hesitate to holler.

Feeling: better now that Hot Man From the Cold is home. It was no half-cocked hello, I will tell you that.

Don't you forget about me

 ...because I sure as heck haven't forgotten about you. 🫶

Have a stirring Easter, if applicable, or a better than average weekend. I for one am putting down my pen for a few days to attempt conjuring spring. 🌱

May you live as long as you want

 ...and never want as long as you live. ☘️ Sláinte! 🍻

Gone thinkabout

Temperature: has been going up and down, freezing and thawing, as we ski and skate on the roads and pavements.

Eating: my heart out, Hubby is going to Paris and I am not!

Drinking: Would it help, do you think, un peu de champagne? (See above.)

Listening: to Mello for one, and OMG Finland, Käärijä aka the Shirtless Berserker? Brilliant.

Watching: holiday reels. Good times.

Reading: Richard Osman’s The Bullet That Missed, finally!, the third book in the Thursday Murder Club series. And if you’re going who-shot-who-in-the-what-now, look him up, these books are an absolute delight. [Ron having a massage; I laughed out loud. Richard, you nailed it.]

Writing: not a word about the climate crisis, food crisis, refugee crisis or any other crisis for that matter for a while. Oh, I heard that. That sigh of relief. But you are a batch of smart cookies, you’ve connected the dots and those crises because they most certainly connect and circle back and are different manifestations of the same problem.

Thinking: hard for the next few weeks. I have to do some research, study for a bit. One of my favorite things so yay, but I’ll have to focus on that plus I’ll be in charge of Casa Dita while at it; good thing the wee ones are now full-sized ones. [I reserve the right to pop by unannounced.]

Feeling: the need to get in touch while I’m away? I am all ears in comments (which don’t often make it online because you know what they usually entail, but I will parse through them) and then there’s this thing called email, lost on the young, I know, but still very useful when taking care of business, so gmail me at ms.ditaparker and we’ll talk. Now go love someone and shine on. Muah.

Let's go back to the start*

The inscription around Cupid:
I have seen he who can tame the wild lion:
I have seen he who alone can tame hearts: Cupid

And the verse:
All these noble hearts, these sons of courage,
Are naught but playthings of my great power
And the target overwhelmed by the force of my efforts.
The lion is vanquished by my dart, which tames him.
But if I can thus subdue those of greatest valour,
Who will not fear the effects of my flame?

*

Let love rule

 

🕊️

Enough said.

Love and peace are verbs

 ...doing words, actionable words. Not the naïve verbiage of the kumbaya-minded, as the cynical among us would dismissively have you believe, but a reckless attitude, a fearless determination to make the world a better place. Not simply the absence of war but justice, equality and non-discrimination; and not just for some but for everyone.

I can't believe what you say (for seeing what you do)

Bizarro has spoken, and totally in line with his usual smoke-and-mirrors MO, too; outlining goals and intentions in one speech, denying, deflecting and deriding in the next. Nazis got mentioned more times than your Bullshit Bingo card could possibly handle, there was no mention of peace, and the START treaty business, serious as it is, was almost anticlimactic.

If this man loved his citizens, he wouldn't oppress them and terrorize them as he does. If this man loved his country, he would cooperate on global matters and problems instead of sating his personal ambitions and interests. If this man loved his neighbors, Bucha, Irpin or Izium would not have happened and Mariupol would not lay in ruins. If this man loved life, he would not send his countrymen to their deaths, and he would not condone their cruelty and ruthlessness. If this man loved the world, he would concentrate on building and creating, not destruction and neglect. If Bizarro knew the lexical definition of the word integrity, he would never give another speech.

Ode to joy

Every spring we have this thing called Eurovision. The Eurovision Song Contest. Around forty countries perform at the semi-finals, and even though only one will stand victorious, it's more a love and fun and inclusiveness and queer energy and positivity fest than a cut-throat competition. That's why it's so widely and well-loved; it's a ray of light even in the darkest of times. Everyone rooting for everyone, absolutely no assholery allowed, mutual support is the name of the game. It's kind of a prerequisite. And it works! Haters and bigots need not apply. How wonderful and rare is that?

Ukraine is last year's winner, and as wonderful as it would have been to see them host everyone in Kyiv this spring, a hater and bigot did his damnedest to ensure that didn't happen. Runner-up United Kingdom has graciously stepped in and will welcome the Eurovision family (if you're a fan, you're family) to Liverpool in May. Which leaves you several weeks to follow national selections and get in the mood and the groove.

The spirit of Eurovision. We need more of that.

Stop! In the name of love

So. Monday. Another Mayday. I'm sad to report that the carnival weekend in the state of São Paulo, Brazil, ended in tears. Torrential rain, more than twice the monthly average in just 24 hours, led to landslides, mudslides and flooding. Lives lost, homes destroyed, the climate crisis in devastating action.

For the love of whatever you value most, abandon all hope. I'm not joking. Let's stop hoping someone or something saves us from ourselves. Let's hope less and do more. None of us will fix all of this but we can all do something. Considering everything we are (as mammals), everything that surrounds us, everything we eat, wear, live in, work with and build with and otherwise consume comes from nature, every choice we make affects nature.

There is no disconnect, no distinction, although the fossil fuel industry for one would like you to not notice that fact. Well, screw that and screw you; you broke it, you bought it, now clean up after yourselves at your own expense because you damn well should.

Hell yes I'm angry. Aren't you? I love this planet of ours; I love it so very much; it's fascinating and full of beauty; it gave us life and what do we do in return? I am sorry for all the ways in which I may have harmed her, and I am sad for all the ways in which we keep harming her, this system that sustains us.

Love your mother. Make good, smart choices whenever possible. Vote conscientiously. Demand answers and demand action. Brook no bullshit.

It's your world. Honor it.

Rhythm divine

Carnaval is on, sweetie darlings! The pre-carnival street parties, blocos, have been going on for weeks, but this last week before Lent pulls out all the stops for the biggest and loudest street party on Earth.

Oh, to be in Salvador right now. Yesterday, Ivete Sangalo (a fantastic, formidable baiana) opened the folia with this song, three minutes of riotous joy. 

Get your heart pumping, your feet thumping, and have an ardent, bouncy weekend, my dearest, dearest denizens. 🎊

Before I forget

A quick word on art, museums and the power thereof! Something recognizable, something unfamiliar; something that puts your soul at ease, something that gives you a jolt. What art and museums have to offer. A connection to the past, present, possible futures, and yourself.

If you happen to be in/coming to Scandinavia, visit Amos Rex in Helsinki for The Quiet Parade. I went round and round, walking through a dreamscape, an ashen landscape beyond time but anchored in our world. Ah, Helsinki. The city that said no to Guggenheim. I admire their chutzpah. (And they must be sooo glad they did, the Covid closures would have cost them an arm and a leg and who knows which additional appendages.) Two exhibitions to look forward to: Albert Edelfelt is coming home in April, and Tom of Finland will be parking in Kiasma for a six-month visit.

And let's not forget Fotografiska in Stockholm and Tallinn. (Yes, I know, Estonia is not geographically part of Scandinavia, but Tallinn, Helsinki and Stockholm are great friends and a ferry ride away from one another.) No matter which Fotografiska (more than those two, mind you), no matter the exhibition, you are never disappointed. Seriously, no need to know, just go.

What do museums have to do with love? If it puts your soul at ease and/or gives you a jolt, it must be good for you, an act of self-care. (Still oddly uncomfortable with that word.)

[The news, though! He could have been a white hat. He chose to be an asshat instead.]

Be still my beating heart 💓

I know some shun this day for its commercialism, but you don't need to spend a cent to celebrate it. Use this day as an excuse, if indeed you need one, to cultivate loving relationships; with others, and yourself. As the late but great Whitney Houston used to sing, Learning to love yourself, it is the greatest love of all.

Never pass an opportunity, however small or fleeting, to honor love. Today, why not do something, anything, that makes your heart beat just a little bit faster. (I'm going to devote this afternoon to writing.)

Happy Valentine's Day, dearest denizens. 💋

A cure for wellness

So. Monday. So. Did you? Enjoy your weekend? Yes? No? Had a wonderful time? Seemed to have no time, for anything, when in fact you were busy doing everything? Where do the hours go?

I asked a group of friends I trust to give me an honest answer how they were feeling. The results of this totally unscientific questionnaire? Respondents reported feeling tired, anxious, stressed or unmotivated, or some mixture of the above. Work issues, family issues, health issues, financial issues, global issues, all got a mention. And time. Demands on their time. Clocks, calendars, days, hours.

We talk about the importance of self-care. What does that mean? Self-care as opposed to what? Self-harm? Self-indifference? I pleaded with you (as 2022 ended) to take good care of yourself because isn't everything we do an act of self-care, or if not care then harm and/or indifference? How we eat and sleep, how we act and react, how we care or don't care for our mental and physical wellbeing, personal and social and work relationships. Everything, every little thing we don't even pay attention to most of the time because there doesn't seem to be time, affects us. But what is it that afflicts us, really? Is it the feeling of not being in control of everything everywhere all the time? (Never gonna happen.) Is it the feeling that we've been programed to function in a way we don't recall signing up for and are at odds with? (Yes, that feeling.) Is it the feeling that the more efficient and streamlined and productive we become the more we are expected to do and accomplish? (This.) And don't get me wrong, I know you need a goal and a plan or you'll probably get nothing done, but all this quantifying and qualifiers, information overload and efficiency requirements, the sheer speed and volume of things... Where does it end? How much is enough? Nothing ever seems to be.

Wellness is a trillion-dollar industry. They heard our plea, they smell our fear, they've commercialized it and they've monetized it. And sure, hooray, okay, we are looking after ourselves, or our employers are, finally, good for us. But what is this? What are we doing? Aren't we just tackling the symptoms we suffer from and not the system making us sick and tired? I fully understand those demanding lesser hours, a four-day workweek, quiet quitters; they fully understand this is madness and we are mad to go along with it because there is no end to it and we are not benefiting from it, far from it.

Have you reached terminal velocity yet? What are you gonna about it? What are we gonna do about it? Resist, or continue being abused? 

And if you've already surrendered, by which I mean conceded defeat and admitted you are a mortal and not a machine and have stopped demanding of yourself and have stopped allowing others to demand from you what you would never dream requiring others to do to prove they are worthy of walking this earth, good for you. Good for you, sweetie darling.

See your shoes and your spirits rise

We started the week with a song so why not end it with one, an uplifting classic courtesy of The Cure.

Enjoy your weekend, sweetie darlings, wherever you are. 🤗

🤎

Thursday, a good day to read Chocolat, watch Chocolat, or eat chocolat while reading/watching Chocolat. Because you will start craving it. So prepare accordingly. And quality over quantity, please. We're pampering ourselves, not punishing our gastrointestinal bits.

Did you get my SOS? Excellent.

▄ ▄ ▄ ▄▄▄ ▄▄▄ ▄▄▄ ▄ ▄ ▄

Valentine's Week calendar says it's Proposal Day, so here goes:

Event: Planetary Conglomeration of Catastrophes and Emergencies
Target group: You
Proposed by: Me
Hosting org: UNICEF, Save the Children, Médecins Sans Frontières, The White Helmets, Red Cross or Red Crescent Disaster Relief, that local fundraising rally you know and trust...
Date: Ongoing
Venue: Planet Earth
Amount requested: Whatever you can spare

How did the rose

Ever open its heart
And give to this world
All its beauty?
It felt the encouragement of light
Against its being;
Otherwise
We all remain too frightened.

It Felt Love, from The Gift by Hafiz

Electric blue Monday

This Monday, any Monday really, could use some Giorgio Moroder magic and the sultry warmth and strength of Donna Summer, so why not start the week with some synth-based pop even the young ones will recognize (thank you Stranger Things). Deceptively simple, this song is pure self-suggestion; use it wisely.

(Full disclosure, this whole month is a head fake, as much for me as it is for you, to keep one going in these relentlessly calamitous times.)

Let's go nuts

This Sunday is World Nutella Day. Yes, it's a thing. Sounds like an evil yet yummy plan to sell a sugary treat, and I'm here for it. Or rather for the goddess of all things delicious, Nigella.

If you can't eat nuts, I am so sorry. Nuts happen to be one of my favorite healthy snacks. Thankfully, soup-to-nuts Ms. Lawson has plenty of scrumptious desserts on offer, so fret not, sweetie darlings. And nothing says I love you like baking for your loved ones. Just because. And because Nigella. And okay, jeez, Nutella.

Have a tasty weekend, dearest denizens, wherever you are.

No-bake Nutella cheesecake by Nigella.

P.S. I'm in no way affiliated with Nigella Lawson, but I do worship at her...stove?...pantry?...she has saved me time and energy more times than I care to count.

Omnia vincit amor

 ...et nos cedamus amori. 

Love conquers all things, so we too shall yield to love.
― Virgil, Eclogues 10.69

For Caravaggio's painting, visit Berlin.

It is to Cupid that I dedicate this month 💘

The never-ending story

It’s been a tough year, don’t you think? What do you mean it’s only January? My point exactly! It’s only January and this year has already met all my nonexistent expectations. What do you mean that makes no sense? What in this world makes sense anymore anyway?!

War, the cost of living crisis, climate crisis, food crisis, displacement due to war and the climate crisis and the food crisis. They are all connected; the time of peace dividends is over. And what of liberal democracy? Is liberal democracy on the way out? It is if you ask the likes of Putin, Xi, Erdogan, Orbán... But what is the alternative they offer? Authoritarianism. Submitting to the state and the man or party in charge. Freedom equals chaos in their vernacular so they take away your rights and they take away that freedom. The freedom to speak freely, freedom to dissent, freedom to demand something other than what the man or party offers.

Having said that, have you noticed how benevolence hasn’t lost to virulence and violence? Despite every vile thing that is going on; not in all the thousands upon thousands of years humans have inhabited this planet, living, loving, killing and oppressing one another? Ruthlessness or the right of the strongest still haven’t wiped out softer tendencies such as kindness and altruism. Little wonder, since only so-called strongmen value ruthlessness and privileges won through oppression and exploitation. Most of us see those tendencies for what they are: malevolence. Evil. Then again most of us tend to value benevolence over malevolence and kindness over ruthlessness. We long for goodness. We expect goodness. And we practice it.

What else is there? What else can you do? The alternative is hurtful and unhelpful, a ruse to pit us against one another. Hate makes you ruthless and it makes you cruel, so whenever you feel hate raise its ugly head please step back and take a deep breath. Don’t let baser instincts, your reptile brain, get the better of you. That’s emotion, a feeling, one you shouldn’t ride lightly.   

And furthermore, strongman is a misnomer. No one is more thin-skinned and afraid of criticism and opposition than a supposed strongman. Overcompensating oafs who take things personally and attack people instead of problems or who blame other people for problems they themselves have created and/or are responsible for solving, that’s what they are. Infallible to boot, like the Pope. So akin to…gods, then? Now there’s a dangerous and deranged belief. All-powerful they are not, not in a literal sense. Realizing an ambition without doing harm is something no authoritarian or totalitarian leader has ever achieved. Of course, not doing harm is not all that important to them. But it is for the rest of us. That means most of us.

Cooperation and mutual respect, that’s what has kept us afloat and that’s what keeps “strongmen” up at night. What if I can’t beat them into submission, bully them until they break down, back off and shut up? What they don’t understand is that all those soft tendencies do not equal weakness, quite the opposite. They are the hard core of humanity, something cultural evolution hasn’t managed to snuff out. It takes guts to be open and vulnerable. It takes dogged determination to face insurmountable odds. It takes a brave soul to go against someone who doesn’t care if you live or die, a system that wants to crush you. It takes courage to do what you dread.

My point? I’m sure I had one...sorry if I lost you along the way. Oh well, oh hell, it’s been a long and tough year. Shall we go enjoy the weekend, whatever counts as R & R in your books? Happy Saint Sebastian’s (or Dia de São Sebastião, the patron saint of Rio de Janeiro)!

Peace out.

Pax et bonum, I said! No? A girl can dream, right?

Temperature: -10/14 degrees. I’ll (never) get used to it.

Eating: nothing at all before…Easter? I’ve been stuffing my face for two weeks. Nothing some rigorous exercise won't exorcise but you've got to stop sometime like now.

Drinking: what’s left of the glögg later today, just to keep warm.

Listening: to this year’s sambas de enredo; carnaval is a mere six weeks away!

Watching: what the man who put the dick in dictator does next. This Christmas ceasefire is just another round of self-serving shite.

Reading: The brilliant Susan Cain has written a book on saudade!

Writing: a slew of birthday cards. An inordinate number of people seem to have been born in January. Off to investigate this statistical anomaly aka pure coincidence.

Thinking: Do your worst, 2023. Courtesy of how this decade has been so far, the bar marked Expectations is oh so low. Nonexistent, really.

Feeling: energized.