With all the troubles, concerns, and issues in the world, I am not so shortsighted to think my personal story is nearly as important as the issues in the world today. I am aware of the fund-raising concert in New York for victims of Hurricane Sandy, and my heart goes out to all those people.
When I consider the bigger picture I know that there are many more serious concerns.
Upon a dismal blue field of dark red ambition endeavors of art seem to fade to grey.
But across the horizon the sun will rise in a brilliant yellow, bringing a new day of hope.
May peace and love be with you everyday.
If I can say anything that may get the attention of people who may think my story is unimportant. I might add that your tax dollars were used to follow this artist back and forth across five state lines regularly in an investigation last lasted months to my knowledge, possibly longer. For no reason with no productive outcome for anyone thousands of man hours wasted watching me live my life and deliver art. Thats a waste of tax payers dollars.
My son and I are both victims of the civil war. We are both survivor’s. We have seen terrible things and we have had terrible things done to us. But we live on.
War is not a game, but many play. Thousands don’t survive to speak of their ordeals. Few care to ever discuss the horrible nightmares of their realities.
We have a civil war in this country and it’s older than the war between the north and the south. It’s a war of domestic nature and its spilling over into our streets daily. It affects every aspect of our lives from the courtroom to the game room.
There are many victims from the newborn baby to the grandparents of that baby.
It turns children into victims of abuse.
It turns people into alcoholics and it helps feed drug addiction.
It turns young men women and children into prostitutes.
It can turn anyone into a victim, a victimizer or a statistic.
People die everyday as victims of the civil war.
It’s not unique to this country. Its worldwide.
But we all have a responsiblity to help to stop it.
Reachout to a shelter, donate time, donate money.
Reachout to your children, a family member, a neighbor.
reach out to your kids.
Show them some love.
So now for me? I am left with fragments of a twisted reality left on the side of a deserted stretch of a lonely interstate.
Discarded remains of a disjointed sequence of torturing implementations of obscure harsh treatments of each other. Each inhumanly executed in the guise of justice.
Why should this matter to you because it could happen to you or anyone in your family.