Category Archives: notes

Opening editorial message for Truth, the magazine, 1st draft

illustration truth the magazine opening editorial statement

Opening editorial message for Truth, the magazine, 1st draft:

First off, my name is not really Kimberly Townsend Palmer. It is, or rather, should be, Kimberly Townsend Pomikala. Pomikala is a Bohemian name, which my father was born with but which was changed by his family not too long after he started school in Arcadia, California. It was changed because one fine, sunny day he came home in tears after being called a “dirty Bohunk” by the other children. It was 1943, and the world, and finally the United States, had long been at war. The biggest battles were not being fought on battlefields but being fought inside the human heart. Many families lost their entire physical existence, multiple generations snuffed out in less time than it takes to inhale, exhale — mine lost only its identity. A small price to pay for being safe in southern California, in a town named for the residence of the Greek gods. So my father grew up as a camouflaged ethnic. The name was changed, but the inside could not be changed. He never felt at home anywhere he went. He might well have been a war refugee of a metaphysical battle — a battle, the fundamental struggle humanity has been waging since its inception, the inexorable war between truth and ignorance. Factual accuracy is not always the truth — truth goes to the essence of a thing. Not the surface, but what is deep within.

The story is told how Eve caused the fall of humanity from the garden of Eden by eating from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. What is the remedy for this? What is the essential nugget of truth we may take away from that crucial moment? My answer is: there is no absolute good, there is no absolute evil — there is but truth and ignorance. Eating the apple and gaining the surface knowledge of good and evil was a trap humanity fell into, a trap we have been struggling to release ourselves from ever since. Love exists. Hate exists. Both can serve the truth. Both can serve ignorance. We must harness ourselves to the wagon of truth and pull our heavy burden to wherever the driver leads us. The driver is God, the driver is love, the driver is peace, serenity and acceptance of the way things are on this planet. Many things we label good and many things we label evil are in fact neither. They are simply in the service of truth or in the service of ignorance. Satan, in the guise of the serpent, led Eve and Adam into a terrible, incomprehensible trap and God is now and has always been guiding humanity out of that trap. The reason God forbade eating of that fruit was it was not yet the right time for humanity to have that knowledge.

Plainly put, we are not yet advanced enough to receive the knowledge of good and evil. God is the only entity qualified to eat of that tree. We have taken a small, superficial bite of knowledge and used our imperfect bodies, minds and hearts to inflict merciless cruelty and oppression on others. Our biggest enemy is pride — believing we, as fragile, physical and temporal beings, can ever know enough to accurately judge another’s worth before God. How dare judges and juries impose the death penalty! It is not our role to take life, which is bestowed by God. It is our role to live it and seek the truth and banish ignorance. We are entitled to keep ourselves safe, we can ensure our physical and emotional safety from injustice and repression — but we cannot ever presume to know the will of God.

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president barack obama is being quoted out of context by the radical fringe right, and I’M SICK & FUCKING TIRED OF THIS SHIT

illustration president obama

the full text of president obama’s speech in which he advocates FOR democracy, not AGAINST it. a paragraph is being circulated, ENTIRELY OUT OF CONTEXT, to defame him. I WON’T STAND FOR THIS SHIT.

“And it was here in Europe, through centuries of struggle, through war and enlightenment, repression and revolution, that a particular set of ideals began to emerge, the belief that through conscience and free will, each of us has the right to live as we choose, the belief that power is derived from the consent of the governed and that laws and institutions should be established to protect that understanding.

And those ideas eventually inspired a band of colonialists across an ocean, and they wrote them into the founding documents that still guide America today, including the simple truth that all men, and women, are created equal.

But those ideals have also been tested, here in Europe and around the world. Those ideals have often been threatened by an older, more traditional view of power. This alternative vision argues that ordinary men and women are too small-minded to govern their own affairs, that order and progress can only come when individuals surrender their rights to an all-powerful sovereign. Often this alternative vision roots itself in the notion that by virtue of race or faith or ethnicity, some are inherently superior to others and that individual identity must be defined by us versus them, or that national greatness must flow not by what people stand for, but what they are against.

In so many ways, the history of Europe in the 20th century represented the ongoing clash of these two sets of ideas, both within nations and among nations. The advance of industry and technology outpaced our ability to resolve our differences peacefully. And even — even among the most civilized of societies on the surface, we saw a descent into barbarism.”

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Heavenly Dances, Heavenly Intimacies, a short story

illustration heavenly dances heavenly intimacies

Heavenly Dances, Heavenly Intimacies, a short story

“Isn’t there any heaven where old beautiful dances, old beautiful intimacies prolong themselves?”

Ford Madox Ford, The Good Soldier

How can I be “dead” to any of the men I once loved?  They are not “dead” to me.  Not even H.  How can I be “dead” to H.?  They — even H. — are each as alive as when I was with them; as alive as the first time they touched me, whether tentatively or with confidence; whether softly or roughly; whether with passion or mere lust.  It is shocking and appalling how H. lurched so radically to the right after 9/11.  He began that journey to the Tea-Party-Mad-Hatter-Neocon-Bill-Buckley-Wall-Street-Apologist-Fringe-Brainless-Faux-News-Right when Ronald Reagan was shot; I was with him the very night it happened.  We had a short affair, right then, because we started thinking the end of the world had arrived and we decided, like the crazy college students we were, to get married to celebrate our courage in the face of chaos!  I realized very early on (but still way too late!) I was embarrassed to be seen in public with him.  Did you ever start seeing, and marry someone whom you later realized you were embarrassed to be seen with?  Perhaps the person in question was “dorky,” “geeky,” dressed “badly,” or had questionable “taste.”  H. readily admits he was a “dork” in high school.  He was on the debate team; need I say more?  When you can’t bear to be seen in your lover’s/spouse’s/significant other’s/partner’s company, things usually don’t work out.

Still, I put in ten dutiful years, trying to make amends for my mistake in marrying H.  The second he started making the big bucks, he dumped me.  He left me for my best friend!  I guess I deserved it, not taking control of my own life & filing for divorce two weeks after we married.  And I guess I deserved how my ex-best-friend S. ruined me, as she subsequently did.  She was in charge of the whole group we had socialized with:  dictating how everyone in our “circle” should think, speak, act, or react.  H. was dead wrong about most everything, but, to his credit, he was dead right about her.  At the time I thought him merely woman-hating, but I see now, even though he did hate women, there was something more than simply being a “woman” he hated about her.  He was covering up the fact he loved her by pretending to hate her.  Now, I have no desire to see her, not ever again.  She is definitely “dead” to me.  Yes, I understand intellectually, a living death (call it shunning) can happen to anyone.

The upshot of all this boring history?  I’ve been waiting for something a long time.  I can’t blame anyone but myself for my unhappiness, not anymore.  There is something dispirited inside me, something empty, drained, and beaten — something sick, something tired, something that has surrendered.  I gave up, when?  When my first ex-husband arbitrarily said no to children, breaking his solemn vow.  When I realized I couldn’t find happiness outside myself — not with an old love, not with a new love, not with any of my subsequent husbands, my friends, my eventual children, or my family.  Yes, to casual acquaintances and virtual strangers I am “happy, happier than I’ve ever been.”  And it’s true!  I’ve never been this happy, this contented, in my life.  Yes, there are still problems.  My oldest son is still half the world away, fighting an endless war on behalf of my “country.”  My youngest son still has an ignorant, racist, rabidly conservative father.  I am getting old.  My face is melting.  My neck is turning into a wattle.  I am drooping.

Still, I cannot imagine any of them, the men I have loved or made love to, being dead to me the way my former best friend, S., is dead to me.  Yet that is how they must feel about me, the way I feel about her.  Wanting her removed from my memories.  Wanting never to have met her.  Not missing anything about her.  She wants to see me, I heard from a mutual friend I still speak to.  I don’t want to see her, or even see the mutual friend.  I don’t even want to get as close as that!  Because of reasons.  Top secret, NSA, DOD, CIA, FBI, SEC, IRS, FDLE, GPD, ACSO reasons!  No further comment!

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Bill Whittle (William Alfred Whittle), “PJTV” ultra-right-wing, neocon “media darling”… owes the government a BUNCH of money! he always did expect the world owed him a living… hypocrisy in the Corporate States of Amerka has been brewing for a long, long time. Since Ronald Wilson Reagan, good old “666,” as we used to call him!

illustration bill whittle tax deadbeat

RECORD 1

CIVIL RECORD VERIFICATION: CONFIRM CASE # 20101300981 AT THE COURT HOUSE

Defendant:        Whittle, William              Case Number:   20101300981

Filing Type:        County Tax Lien              Entity Type:       Individual Record

Filing Date:         20100915           Amount Liability:            $93.00

Address:             12611 Pacific Ave #102  City:      Los Angeles

State:    Ca          Zip:        90066

Plaintiff:              County Of Los Angeles   Court Code:       Calosc1

Court Name:      La County / Recorder Of Deeds Action Type:      County Tax Lien

RECORD 2

CIVIL RECORD VERIFICATION: CONFIRM CASE # 199033123 AT THE COURT HOUSE

Defendant:        Whittle, William              Case Number:   199033123

Filing Type:        Federal Tax Lien – Income           Entity Type:       Individual Record

Filing Date:         19901200           Amount Liability:            $25,922.00

Address:             12659 Rd 36       City:      Madera

State:    Ca          Zip:        93637

Plaintiff:              Usa Irs  Court Code:       Ca173

Court Name:      Merced County, Merced Recorders Office           Unlawful Detainer:            N

RECORD 3

CIVIL RECORD VERIFICATION: CONFIRM CASE # 2003854138 AT THE COURT HOUSE

Defendant:        Whittle, William              Case Number:   2003854138

Filing Type:        Federal Tax Lien – Income           Entity Type:       Individual Record

Filing Date:         19950200           Amount Liability:            $26,422.00

Address:             12659 Rd 36       City:      Madera

State:    Ca          Zip:        93637

Plaintiff:              Usa Irs  Court Code:       Ca173

Court Name:      Merced County, Merced Recorders Office           Unlawful Detainer:            N

RECORD 4

CIVIL RECORD VERIFICATION: CONFIRM CASE # 199126935 AT THE COURT HOUSE

Defendant:        Whittle, William              Case Number:   199126935

Filing Type:        Federal Tax Lien – Income           Entity Type:       Individual Record

Filing Date:         19911000           Amount Liability:            $50,217.00

Address:             3765 W Mckinley            City:      Fresno

State:    Ca          Zip:        93722

Plaintiff:              Usa Irs  Court Code:       Ca173

Court Name:      Merced County, Merced Recorders Office           Unlawful Detainer:            N

RECORD 5

CIVIL RECORD VERIFICATION: CONFIRM CASE # 2003323754 AT THE COURT HOUSE

Defendant:        Whittle, William              Case Number:   2003323754

Filing Type:        Eviction With $ Amount Entity Type:       Individual Record

Filing Date:         20060629           Amount Liability:            $812.00

Address:             8405 Rio San Diego Dr Apt 5114 City:      San Diego

State:    Ca          Zip:        92108

Plaintiff:              Sares Regis Holdings Inc              Court Code:       Ca235

Unlawful Detainer:         Y

RECORD 6

CIVIL RECORD VERIFICATION: CONFIRM CASE # 20080584715 AT THE COURT HOUSE

Defendant:        Whittle, William A          Case Number:   20080584715

Filing Type:        Federal Tax Lien              Entity Type:       Individual Record

Filing Date:         20080404           Amount Liability:            $14,149.00

Address:             12611 Pacific Av #102    City:      Los Angeles

State:    Ca          Zip:        90066

Plaintiff:              Internal Revenue Service             Court Code:       Calosc1

Court Name:      La County / Recorder Of Deeds Action Type:      Federal Tax Lien

RECORD 7

CIVIL RECORD VERIFICATION: CONFIRM CASE # 20090343392 AT THE COURT HOUSE

Defendant:        Whittle, William A          Case Number:   20090343392

Filing Type:        State Tax Lien    Entity Type:       Individual Record

Filing Date:         20090311           Amount Liability:            $6,784.00

Address:             12611 Pacific Av #102    City:      Los Angeles

State:    Ca          Zip:        90066

Plaintiff:              State Of California          Court Code:       Calosc1

Court Name:      La County / Recorder Of Deeds Action Type:      State Tax Lien

RECORD 8

CIVIL RECORD VERIFICATION: CONFIRM CASE # 20101659997 AT THE COURT HOUSE

Defendant:        Whittle, William A          Case Number:   20101659997

Filing Type:        County Tax Lien              Entity Type:       Individual Record

Filing Date:         20101118           Amount Liability:            $3,859.00

Address:             12611 Pacific Av #102    City:      Los Angeles

State:    Ca          Zip:        90066

Plaintiff:              County Of Los Angeles   Court Code:       Calosc1

Court Name:      La County / Recorder Of Deeds Action Type:      County Tax Lien

RECORD 9

CIVIL RECORD VERIFICATION: CONFIRM CASE # 20110604035 AT THE COURT HOUSE

Defendant:        Whittle, William A          Case Number:   20110604035

Filing Type:        Federal Tax Lien Release             Entity Type:       Individual Record

Filing Date:         20080404           Amount Liability:            $14,149.00

Address:             12611 Pacific Av #102    City:      Los Angeles

State:    Ca          Zip:        90066

Plaintiff:              Internal Revenue Service             Court Code:       Calosc1

Court Name:      La County / Recorder Of Deeds Action Type:      Federal Tax Lien

RECORD 10

CIVIL RECORD VERIFICATION: CONFIRM CASE # 20110604673 AT THE COURT HOUSE

Defendant:        Whittle, William A          Case Number:   20110604673

Filing Type:        State Tax Lien Release   Entity Type:       Individual Record

Filing Date:         20090311           Amount Liability:            $6,784.00

Address:             12611 Pacific Av #102    City:      Los Angeles

State:    Ca          Zip:        90066

Plaintiff:              State Of California          Court Code:       Calosc1

Court Name:      La County / Recorder Of Deeds Action Type:      State Tax Lien

RECORD 11

CIVIL RECORD VERIFICATION: CONFIRM CASE # 20110671881 AT THE COURT HOUSE

Defendant:        Whittle, William A          Case Number:   20110671881

Filing Type:        Federal Tax Lien Release             Entity Type:       Individual Record

Filing Date:         20101118           Amount Liability:            $3,859.00

Address:             12611 Pacific Av #102    City:      Los Angeles

State:    Ca          Zip:        90066

Plaintiff:              Internal Revenue Service             Court Code:       Calosc1

Court Name:      La County / Recorder Of Deeds Action Type:      Federal Tax Lien

RECORD 12

CIVIL RECORD VERIFICATION: CONFIRM CASE # 2003C009034 844 AT THE COURT HOUSE

Defendant:        Whittle, William A          Case Number:   2003C009034 844

Filing Type:        Civil Judgment   Entity Type:       Individual Record

Filing Date:         20000700           Amount Liability:            $6,379.00

Address:             3765 Mckinley W            City:      Fresno

State:    Ca          Zip:        93722

Plaintiff:              Intl Cr   Court Code:       Ca059

Court Name:      Fresno County, Fresno Municipal Court Unlawful Detainer:              N

RECORD 13

CIVIL RECORD VERIFICATION: CONFIRM CASE # 20100007635 AT THE COURT HOUSE

Defendant:        Whittle, William J           Case Number:   20100007635

Filing Type:        State Tax Lien    Entity Type:       Individual Record

Filing Date:         20100105           Amount Liability:            $4,949.00

Address:             4267 Marina City Dr #504            City:      Marina Del Rey

State:    Ca          Zip:        90292

Plaintiff:              State Of California          Court Code:       Calosc1

Court Name:      La County / Recorder Of Deeds Action Type:      State Tax Lien

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Baby Chicks and Free Speech, a short story

illustration baby chicks and free speech free_speech

Baby Chicks and Free Speech, a short story

Here I am, sitting on the long, narrow side patio of “Ye Olde Neighborhood Coffee Parlor” listening to yet another, tiresome & self-aggrandizing, homeless guy tell some adoring young female his “war stories.” So this one night, under this bridge… they usually begin, as does this one.

And then they arrive as quickly as possible (as does this one) at the “no one dares to call the police on me anymore,” stage, or is it no one dares call the state troopers, or the FBI, or the CIA, or the NSA? Whatever. Boils down to the fact that some dangerous, or just plain, old, drug-addled sociopath, is trying to pick up a drunk, defenseless-seeming chick (and I do mean chick – even her hair is fluffy like a newly hatched & dried chicken’s) on the side porch at “Ye Olde Neighborhood Coffee Parlor.” Then I hear the magic words: crazy bitch! Bingo!

So, to cut a long, boring, pointless ordeal short, I let him have it in the face with both barrels. Told him from where I sat, not even lifting my head to look, or my pencil from page of the blank composition book I was writing in, that if he could call someone a “crazy bitch” loud enough for me to hear him all the way at the opposite end of the uncovered concrete patio, then I could call him a “stupid, fucking sociopathic, prick asshole” as loud as I wanted to, from my end of the patio.

“Yes,” he said, “that’s your right of free speech.” And then he went inside to have the management call the cops on me. Ooh, he just trotted back out to tell me he works at the College of Law — he’s real important!

The poor, homeless chick I was afraid was going to end up as a body dumped by him somewhere along the nearest exit of the nearest interstate is not going with him now, she’s clutching her head and moaning how she was “just on my way to the lake, man!” She sounds like Janis Joplin after a shot of heroin and half a bottle of whiskey. I just kept telling her I loved her, over and over and over. And that he most definitely did NOT love her. Or have her best interests at heart.

I gave him a fucking piece of my mind. Maybe I didn’t save her life, but I definitely saved her poor, little, skinny ass from a predatory, muscle-bound hunk of steroidal ego-maniac-ism. With a tanning booth tan, or maybe it’s a spray tan, who gives a fuck. I think the other patrons inside this place just told him to get the hell out of here. We’re all here, some of us twice a day, almost like clockwork – since this is the first time I’ve ever seen him, I doubt he is a “regular.”

Oh, but the poor, unjustly accused, wee man-child protests plaintively he was “just trying to do somebody a favor, buying a homeless person a cup of coffee.” The “crazy bitch” he referred to outside on the patio was, drum roll please… his mother! Wow, there’s a shocker. What sociopath/serial killer/manipulator/user/con man/misogynist/racist/violent/physically or emotionally or financially abusive A-hole doesn’t blame their “crazy bitch” of a mother for everything they’ve brought on to themselves!

I told him she must really love him, his mom, especially when he calls her “crazy bitch” to her face on Mother’s Day! I thought his head would explode right there, all over the rusty, rickety, nasty tables the owner is too cheap to replace. Why I keep coming back here, I’ll never know. My nephew says it’s haunted… maybe the spirits are trying to get me here so they can tell me something I desperately need to know. What if I don’t want to listen to them? And I don’t! Not the bad ones, anyway. So I generally try to ignore them all, altogether, because trying to sort the good spirits from the bad spirits seems like tempting fate.

Miss “Chicken Little/Little Chicken/My Little Chickadee” would have paid handsomely for that “free” iced coffee drink with a priceless piece of her tiny, bony ass. Look on the bright side: maybe she would have left him with a little something infectious and/or potentially itchy to remember her by. Of course, if she had gotten pregnant, he would have denied everything, including ever having met her. And pity the poor child born of such a freak-o-zoid union!

Now the musclebound sociopath is gone, back on his expensive racing bike, continuing on his way to the neighborhood weightlifting “meat market” joint three blocks down the road, where he can peacock his spray-tanned asshole-ry around for all the other macho/macha bodybuilders. College of Law employee? We’ll just see about that. Yeah, that’s what I thought… nobody on the staff possesses his distinctive face. How considerate of the College of Law to have its own mini-facebook thing! Legal Sociopath Dude vacated the premises, and quickly. Thank you, all good spirits haunting “Ye Olde Neighborhood Coffee Parlor!”

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RAK, “photographer,” a critical review

illustration RAK bad photographer

“At my request, I recently received several copies of Professional Artist. I wanted to look at them and what they had to offer photographers. To my surprise, photographer Steve Meltzer has a regular column, ‘Photo Guy,’ wherein he examines a variety of techniques and tools. In the issue, his topic is ‘Photography and the Professional Artist.’ In this article he discusses the process of preparing your work for the world of fine-art exhibition. In a previous issue, managing editor, Louise Buyo, profiles photographer RAK. She describes RAK as ‘ a photographer who shoots from the hip with a tendency toward abstraction.'”

I would describe “photographer” RAK a tiny bit differently… for example, this way: “a ‘photographer’ who lies on her generous husband’s couches for a decade, graciously permitting her husband to pay 90% of her living expenses while she socks away half a million to make her own individual retirement nice & comfy, (but who assures her husband it’s meant for him, too, which is a DAMNED LIE), a ‘photographer’ who then dumps the aforementioned husband a few months after he nearly dies from a brain tumor, because she doesn’t like her husband being healthy again & actually asking her to get up off said couches & pull a bit more of her own weight… a ‘photographer’ who now lives off her beloved “Grammy” in a house her beloved “Grammy” purchased for her with cash, on a golf course, where she can lie on her couch during business hours, pretending to work for the fools who employ her, but actually sleeping four hours out of the eight those fools mistakenly believe they are paying for.”

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Elf Therapists I Have Known, a short story

illustration reichian elf therapists i have known

Elf Therapists I Have Known, a short story

I went to a Reichian therapist (a disciple of Wilhelm Reich, who was a student of Sigmund Freud) once, and it was some experience. She was this neat little lady named Lila. She had these big flashing eyes and she looked like an elf except she didn’t have pointed ears. Well, actually, maybe she did. I’m not sure. Wow, I think they really were pointed ears! So, like, dude, I think she actually was an elf! How spooky is that? The elf Reichian therapist/analyst/spiritual counselor? Who just happened to be counseling my dad? In group therapy? With my Aunt, his baby sister, who was ten years younger than him? Like I was ten years older than my baby brother? My two daughters that I have now, thirty something years later, are ten years apart. How many times do we have to repeat this generational pattern thing to get it right? To infinity, and beyond, it would seem.

***

So, the reason I went to see her, Lila the elf therapist, is that I was in California visiting my father the Communist criminal defense lawyer. He was really tall and thin with wild, curly hair. He was what I call now an “interesting” person. Which my older daughter will tell you really means “eccentric,” which is supposedly good, and which my younger daughter will tell you means “weird,” which is not so good, in fact, is bad in a major way, that is, any way which embarrasses her in front of her friends, which may be perfect strangers, but, you can never be too careful. Someone might turn out, in the end, to be a friend. Or they might turn out to be your worst enemy, so don’t give them any ammo they might be able to use against you in future.

Well, anyway, I was out visiting him, my Commie criminal defense lawyer father whom I didn’t see from the ages of four to twelve, over Easter break when I am fifteen going on sixteen, the exact same age my younger daughter is now, and he had an appointment for group therapy while I was there, and for some unknown reason, he invited me to go along with him. Because I guess he thought exposing a vulnerable adolescent to some of the wackiest, mid-1970s-counterculture, radical German existentialist-inspired group therapy that ever existed was a great idea to heal our battered and bruised father/daughter relationship! Which is exactly the sort of thing my father would think! Which is one of the things I most love about him now, but let me tell you, then was a completely different story!

***

I didn’t love this characteristic of Popsy at all when I was fifteen. No, that characteristic made my stomach hurt. In fact, the entire time I was with him, mostly, I was always on the verge of passing out, throwing up, breaking into a horrible sweat, having diarrhea, or all of those things simultaneously! Not that I was tense, mind you, just that he made me ever the teensiest bit nervous because of his unpredictable-ness. Excuse me while I wipe the tears from my eyes from writing that last couple of sentences! Tears of laughter! Now! Tears of sickness, then. See what a difference 36 years can make to a person? From one of your most horrible experiences to one of your most cherished, a few dozen deaths and a few divorces and a couple of children later! I’m laughing so hard I have abdominal cramps right this second! Whew!

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