my brain, roger, says:

who, so far, i’m liking for president:after watching a repeat of CNN or ESPN or whatever heck ACRONYM the event was on….a presidential debate….

i liked these gentleman:

richardson
kucinich
obama
joe biden

not necessarily in that order

i’m in galveston waiting to do a gig.

i like that richardson said he is against torture, he would shut down guantanamo, and that he would end the war and he is AGAINST eavesdropping, against the homeland security act

john edwards needs to stop smiling so much. i think he’s probably a sincere person, but he smiles too much and it comes across as
silly (probably the same problem i have as an artist.)

altho john e. just said essentially the stuff richardson just said. good for him

obama comes across as in-touch, honest and and well informed. i like how he comes across as passionate about this process. i like, too, that he stands up for himself on the podium when someone misquotes him…you can sense the anger in his eyes for being misquoted, but he keeps his cool and uses the anger to push himself forward with ease and focus. he doesn’t lose sight of the bigger issue: being a servant of the people.

kucinich is well-educated and has a lot of knowledge…just flows out of him…but he needs to stop saying the kucinich presidency, that kind of plug….i recognize that all the candidates are desperate to get us to remember their names and vote for them….but it just sounds
whiny, to me, anyway. he also has a good sense of humor

man, that hillary is smart, i’ll give you that…she can think on her feet, you just see the wheels spinning…and she can not answer a question by asking a question or leaving you hanging. hmm.

what a weird time in the world.

i hope that the little white dog i saw evading the evening’s traffic finds food. he was beautiful. a ghost in a city of neglect. if i had been in austin, i would have scooped him up and took him home, but i couldn’t figure out how to get him into the hotel without someone noticiing, and he seemed skittish, at best.

then i saw a carriage drawn by a drawn horse, and he was getting pissy, backing up, causing the man with the reins to pull the whole shebang over to the curb. i wanted to get out of my van and march back and say “let the poor creature go to pasture and relax on sweet grass, why doncha…”

the one time i did that in new york, i got an ugly response.
oh, and one time in dallas, i was offered a free ride to an event in a buggy and i turned it down. i have never ridden in one of those contraptions. i don’t care if i sound
punky about this. it is wrong to have those horses standing all day on hot, texas concrete, slugging people around who are giddy with ignorance of the plight of the creature pulling them around to see schlocky sites.

i guess this leads me back to presidential candidates. i don’t want someone who goes with the flow, and hops in the carriage and expects me to think the way things are are fine.
i want someone who gets OFF the damn carriage, unhooks the horse and says, “hi-yah! there’s a new sheriff in town, and we’re cleaning up this mess.” and that person finds new means for energy, replaces the manure of the past with integrity, can saddle his own horse but treats it with respect and remembers to water, feed and brush it down.
someone who knows the merits of hard work and stays after hours. someone who isn’t in it for the money, the lobbists gifts and promises, someone who sees the tenacity of poverty and racism and sexism and figures out how to advance education, teachers’ pay, health care for all, and puts jobs back into the hands of the american people.

only then can people return to self-respect by having jobs they enjoy, and have pride in, and all the CEOS are just one office down the hall, not living in grandiose mansions, spending the people’s money who are hoping to send their kids to college, to retire, to have a vacation now and then.

i have decided no one is reading my blog, so i can just go on ad nauseum, here in my hotel room, by myself, wondering, once again, how to make the world a better place and feeling like the hole in the bottom of the sea. ….. i am just one grain of sand on an enormous, never ending beach of sand, everyone blogging and talking and drinking starbucks and listening to starbucks music and i’m just over here blah blah blahing…

happy, but blah blah blahing about whatever, and wondering: does it make a difference?

i hope i talk with my kids tonight. i’m out here missing my kids, gonna go sing and, yet, wondering…will they call me back?

i’ve decided i’ll dedicate tonight’s show to mia erichson and jerry haynes (mr. peppermint)

and i’ll blog about that some other time.

7 Comments on “my brain, roger, says:”

  • Jim

    says:

    Wow! How time flies when one gets caught up with sick children, trips to the vet with rabbits and goats and all the other routine blah, blah stuff. Thanks for writing so that in one quick swoop I can catch up on two weeks of missing you. You’re still in my prayers, except now from Big-D. -Jim

  • Sarah B

    says:

    I always read your blog!! And love you so much, and am often brought to tears by your words. You rock!

    The other sarah

  • Josh

    says:

    Hey, Sara! Correct, no one is reading your blog. (We’re all busy writing our own!) Oh–and you don’t make a difference. (There’s just tons of evidence for that!) You. Are. Amazing. (Nuff said.)

  • Halal

    says:

    Sara, I’m listening. One grain of sand at a time becomes a sandcastle or a sand dune (and we know how important those are) in time. Halal

  • Sara, I read your blog.

    Doug

  • Shawna

    says:

    Ok—I’m reading, just not taking time to comment. You know me—I could make some comments from the other side of the fence and rile everybody. I bet you would get lots of comments! I love you, I love your passion, and I love the way you love the world! I hope you have a great time tonight. And I know what you mean about the kids—that’s how I used to feel when I worked outside the home. Knock ’em dead tonight!

  • kc

    says:

    I’m still reading. Keep on with the writing.

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