Dangerous Compassions


This morning I completed a beautiful gift, a beautiful amazing project.

M is afraid it’d get lost in the mail.  So he wants me to deliver it in person.

We have to go to costco for the Catholic Worker shop.  Then we need to come home and work on lunch.  Our friend S is coming over.

Split peas are soaking.  It will be a vegan feast.  I’m making peanut sauce noodles.  Historically, I’ve struggled with peanut sauces.  So we’ll see.

And spinach salad.  I think peanut sauce and spinach go together really good.

I would like to say something controversial, unpopular.  I see this effort being made to prevent suicide in veterans.  War fucks people up.  So well-intentioned givers are spending all this money to try to help the vets. 

Seems to me the money is going in the wrong side.  How about we prevent war and prevent people from becoming vets.  Then they will not get fucked up in the first place.  An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

I remember when I was in high school I saw the military recruiters on campus.  I was sickened by it, the kids being taken advantage of.  I wrote a nasty editorial for the school paper.  Some vets called my teacher and yelled at him on the phone.

The shooter in Thousand Oaks, he was a vet.  “When the troops come home, they don’t come alone.  Where do you think all of that killing goes?”  That’s lyrics from a song by Robbie.

Well, it’s time to do the shop.  I haven’t washed my hair in a long time.  Seems winter came, here.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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