This was going to be the best party ever! Everyone was saying it. She was so excited she could hardly stand it; this was her first party since her birthday so everything was different, "I'm 16 now, I can do what I want!" " I can stay out all night if I want to!" She was telling herself as she applied glitter to her lips. She loved glitter, her bed was covered in it and ever since she discovered all the different colors and the lip gloss with the sparkles and the eye shadow with the twinkling, she almost never went anywhere without some on somewhere. She glanced at the clock.......7:15...still so early, she had plenty of time, Courtney wouldn't be here for a bit yet so she could just do her thing. The music was loud and normally her mom would have yelled up by now but she knew how important this night was to her. She glanced in the mirror at her breast, she was so relieved that some fullness started to be seen on the edges of her pink sweater with the flowers stitched into it, she had been so worried, most of her friends were huge already and she tried to make lite of it; like she didn't care; she would try not to look all the time, but she was so jealous of how much better all her friends looked in clothes. It was so obvious how all the guys would flock to girls with big boobs, that's all they cared about it seemed. It practically happened overnight for her friends, especially Courtney, she had huge breast already and guys just buzzed around her like fireflies. Her mom told her not to worry, that a nice chest ran in her family, she would say with a little mischievous smile on her face, the way her mom said it made her want to puke, who says "nice chest" anyway?!

Before long Courtney showed up and they started jabbering like crazy, just talking on-top of each other, no words really even heard, just the joy of excitement and anticipation and friendship. They adjusted each other's makeup, fawned over each-others clothing and went downstairs in a disjointed rush. Her mom was waiting in the kitchen with a huge smile, obviously remembering what they were going through, what that felt like. Dad of course in his chair in the living room. The jabbering continued with her mom briefly jumping right in and keeping perfect time with them, then they said their goodbyes, kissed dad who made some half hearted warnings about-being late-boys something, but she could barely focus on anything and before she knew it they were in Courtney's car with the windows down, the spring air was warm and felt so good and fresh; the stereo blaring her favorite songs and they screaming the words at the top of their lungs.

When they arrived at the party there was already a million people, and it took them what seemed like hours to make their way through to the house, having to say hi and hug and chat every step it seemed. She was surprised to discover that she knew practically everyone there and they all seemed so happy to see them. A lot of people said happy birthday to her, cause her birthday was on Thursday and she hadn't seen them for whatever reason. Finally, after what seemed like forever, they made it into the house and if she thought it was crowded outside, it was nothing compared to inside. It was nuts! She had only been to a couple real parties in her life and they had mainly consisted of maybe 12 people sitting around drinking, smoking weed and listening to music; maybe some beer pong, this was a full out ‘rager’, like you see in the movies. She could feel her face was just in a perma grin, and that made her smile even more, this was soo cool. Courtney started just pushing people aside as they made their way through the house, she was on a mission to find drinks for them. Eventually, they found the keg, and what looked like a banquet table with a bunch of big handled plastic bottles on it with stacks of blue and red plastic cups. Courtney immediately started mixing a bunch of stuff together, shoved the first one into my hand, then finished hers and led them back through the house. She took a sip of her drink, and other than the fact that it was room temperature it wasn't too bad; really strong though, she wasn't used to drinking and she could feel her stomach just twist after the first sip and her face blush. From there, they made their way around the house, stopping and chatting with friends all along the way; the music was loud so you had to be really close to someone, then just yell. She was just thinking about what a great time she was having when she saw Him. It was Jack. He was making his way to the keg with a friend and they were talking wildly and loudly to each other. Her heart started beating like crazy and she started to feel warm. Courtney was immediately beside her telling her to go talk to him. She couldn't! She blurted out; feeling very shy and vulnerable in that moment. ‘Common!’ Courtney yelped, and grabbed her by the hand and started leading her towards Jack, towards HIM! She was struck with such an overwhelming panic that she quickly ripped her hand away; Courtney turned with a confused look on her face and thinking quickly, just told her I would, but I had to find a bathroom first, ‘Just wait here, ok?’ ‘Do you want me to go with you?’ ‘No, it's ok, I'll be right back, wait here’, ‘ok, hurry up before he disappears.’ This last part made her anxious, she really wanted to talk to him but just in that moment she wasn't ready. It was too quick, she wanted to settle into the party a little first. The drink started to warm her up and she felt she would be ready soon. I'll just go take a few deep breaths, relax and I'll be fine. She turned and started through the kitchen and into the back room where Courtney told her the bathroom was. This room had much less people, just a few couples speaking quietly on the two small couches and thankfully, no line to the bathroom. She imagined in a house like this there must be a lot of bathrooms.

When she entered the bathroom she noticed how nice and new and modern it looked. Not at all like the dreary, drab, tiny, dark bathroom at her house. Everything was shiny and new, and the air was fresh and smelled like freshly cut flowers. Wow, this is nice! she thought. She looked in the mirror to check on all her bits of glamour, the lip gloss with flecks of luminous pink, the shooting star she had placed just so on her cheek in radiant reds and golds and silvers; the light blue eyeshadow with the flickering sapphire, everything still perfect, she was so happy, and she was just positive that Jack was looking at her and wanted to talk to her. How many times had they made eye contact? 3-4? At least. She would figure out a way to talk to him when she went back out, she was sure she could convince Courtney to make something up; she was good at that stuff. She didn't  give a shit about anything! OK, she was in there for a bit now, time to get moving before someone came, she was about to make her way to the door when she glanced at the toilet and noticed that it was covered with pee. Oh gross! Guys are such pigs, who would leave it like that. She looked away and started again for the door when she heard the knock. Bam! Bam! Bam! A heavy, drunken hand pounded on the door. Oh shit! Their going to think she made the mess! Fuck! She had to clean the toilet or she would be humiliated. She looked around for something to wipe it with, there was nothing; under the sink?

Nothing. She would have to use toilet paper. Gross. She grabbed a bunch of toilet paper and started to gingerly wipe the toilet seat, the piss soaking through almost immediately; her thumb accidentally falling directly into the mess. She could feel herself almost puke.

Omg, she was taking too long now, how long ago was the first knock, 5 minutes? 10?15?! They were going to think she was taking a shit, oh my god, what was she going to do now?! The knock came again more insistent and her heart jumped into her throat, then a voice,"Hellooo?" "Somebody dead in there"?! Oh No! no no no no! It was Jack, oh god! Why me! Why! She grabbed more toilet paper and started to try and wipe the edges of the mess again, the urine was soaking through the paper instantly and getting on her, she started to gag as the moistness ran down her fingers and onto her hand, she whipped the wad into the garbage and ran to the sink to wash the urine off her hand, the knocking came again and she jumped, she had to do something, say something.

She had to get out of this bathroom, how? She looked around furtively, not knowing what she was looking for, what could help her now. She thought if she saw a gun she might use it on herself in that moment. She glanced at the window which was cracked open, the lace curtains billowing slighting from the warm spring breeze. She couldn't explain why, but she started to move then, slowly towards the window, still not knowing what she would do and balancing one hand on the wide shelf on the other side, stretched over the tub to look down and see how far the ground was.  They were on the first floor so she saw the flowers and bushes almost immediately. The large sill was wide enough to sit on and was covered with various oils and soaps and salts.

Without thought, like a zombie, she mechanically stepped into the classic high claw-foot tub, her face blank as she started to roughly push all the beauty products out of her way. In a dreamlike trance now, the banging on the door, frantic, but just a murmur in her mind, she began to crawl on the shelf towards the window, she had a vague memory of glass breaking but didn't stop or look, all she could think was escape. When she got to the window, she knelt and with both hands tried to pull it up, used to the old windows at her house, half of which she couldn't budge, she gave it everything she had and it exploded straight up into the jam with a loud bang. It had risen so effortlessly she lost her balanced and tumbled backwards into the tub, her legs sticking straight up, still on the shelf, her head turned awkwardly on the side of the tub, she immediately started to struggle up, this is ridiculous, she thought and almost smiled. What am I doing?! Quickly she scrambled up, forgetting the throbbing in her head from banging it on the tub and not caring about anything but getting the fuck out of there; she slid on her belly along the shelf and tumbled headfirst out the window, her hair and dress getting caught in the bush as she landed on the moist ground and flowers in a heavy tangled thump. Ugh, everything hurt now, dirt covered her everywhere and she was soaked from the plants being watered today; going back in the party was not an option. She tried to push herself up and the pain in her hand made her stop and she found that some glass from a perfume bottle was embedded there. Sitting in the slop, still under the bushes, she examined her hand and removed the narrow, pink, glass sliver, Happy Birthday! she thought ruefully.

She crawled out of the bushes and flower beds then, crushing the pretty pinks and yellows and not caring. When she stood up, she was afraid to look down at herself and her outfit, the dirt ground in no doubt, ruined. She wanted to sit and just cry but she had to get out of there before someone saw. She staggered out of the bushes and started towards the street careful not to be seen, as she slipped into the shadows of  the trees, she could hear people in the bathroom and as she looked back she saw the heads that were peering out of the very same window she had slithered out of moments earlier.

She staggered the 5 blocks home then, staying out of the streetlights, careful not to be noticed, moving deeper into the shadows whenever a car passed, a wet, shaggy mess. Fumbling in her small purse she found her phone and felt a moment of panic as she saw the 15 messages from Courtney, she couldn't bear to look at any of them. It was still too soon to try and formulate the excuses she would need to explain her disappearance, so she just quickly sent a text saying she felt sick and had decided to go home, and that she was sorry she didn't say bye; which of course invited a flood of other messages, which of course, she would ignore for the night; anxious to get home and hopefully die in her sleep.

When she arrived at her house the lights were all still on, her parents were no doubt going about their usual evening in the living room in front of the TV, mom reading and glancing up to stay informed as to the drama unfolding before her as dad drifted in and out of slumber. The last thing she wanted to do right now is explain anything. So, as stealthy as a ninja, she went around towards the back of the house, and in a practice performed many times before, silently slid open the screen and then the glass door and slipped inside. Walking through the screened in porch then another door to test her skill, then into the kitchen and up the back stairs to sanctuary.  Not bothering to stop in her room, she went right to the bathroom and again, without a sound, closed the door behind her and turned on the light. What she saw then she will never forget. Her hair was a tangled, sodden mess, she wouldn't be surprised if a bird flew out at this point, honestly. Her glittering makeup, so perfect before and that she had been so proud of, was smudged and smeared and missing in places and it was then that she could see that she must have been crying the whole way home as the only clean spots on her face ones marked by tears. God, what a night. She began the process of undressing when she heard the knock on the door "Colbie?" "Is that you?"  Ugh, mom, how did she find her so fast, how did she know?! moms..... "Yes mom", she heard herself say, but knew more would be required "everything's ok" "just felt a little sick so I came home, I'm going to just take a shower now ango to bed ok? Can we just talk tomorrow? I'm really tired" she repeated that last part hoping it would satisfy her, but also knowing better. "What happened?" "You've only been gone a couple hours, did something happen?" "Do you want me to make you some tea?" mom pressed. "No mom, I'm good, just tired, it was fun but I just felt queasy so I came home, I'll tell you all about it tomorrow" and as she was saying this turned the shower on to hopefully squelch any further inquisition". She held her breath then, not knowing if she had done enough. "OK, let me know if you need anything" her mom said and then nothing. Oh, thank god. She felt bad, she normally would have told her mom everything, she wanted to, but now right now, the humiliation was still too fresh.

She stayed in the shower a long time, the hot water felt so good as she washed all the grime and chill out of her body and hair, scrubbing her legs with a coral sponge and gel. She sat for a while on the floor of the tub, rubbing the sore spot on her head as she replayed the crazy night she had, the second tub she had squatted in tonight she thought and laughed a little, her whole body it seemed covered in scratches and bruises from the falls and bushes she crawled through, stinging in the hot water; she didn't mind it.  After a long time she got out, applied her favorite scented cream over her whole body trying to smooth her wounded legs, that were sure to look worse in the days to come; and putting on her soft fluffy pink robe moved towards the bathroom door. When she reached the door she stopped and listened, trying to hear if anyone was around, if anyone was close. She delicately opened it a crack and peered out, the hallway was dark and the house was quiet; all she could see was the faint light from her bedroom far down the end of the hall. When she felt confident that she was alone, she moved just outside the door.

Once out of the bathroom she stopped again, listening to any sounds of life, she could hear the faint snoring of her father from her parentsbedroom at the other end of the hall to the right of the bathroom; confident no one would ambush her she moved swiftly to her room, the warm light and flower smells enveloping her as she quickly dropped her robe and clambered onto her bed, twisting the light off and scrambling under her feathery comforter. Her familiar fuzzy companions soothing as she covered her head with the fluffy blanket; The bed warming instantly and she exhaled and sunk deeper into it.

16 sucks.

the bathroom; coming of age; young adult, 12-17 3014 words, Brett Curley, its fun; young angst; young teenager, first real party, floods the bathroom, her crush is right outside, young adult, currently no platform, formally medium and wordpress, BA in eastern european history and creative writing, writing style-Brett Curley.

the weight of the dark night settled on him

he grew to love the dark

feeling safe and obscure

the blackness felt like a warm cocoon

tingling on his skin

The quiet settled on him with calm insistence

not unpleasant, familiar to his soul

the day swayed elusively around his hands

just out of reach

thoughts flittered beyond his grasp.

Drifting through the darkening halls,

from room to room,

shadows spread like ink gliding across the walls,

the silence loud and crackling,

he wonders on his life,

loves,

dust dancing through beams,

we know nothing of time,

we know nothing of death,

we are here until we are not,

alone,

ageless in those moments,

timeless,

he remembers the boy,

see’s through his eyes,

a familiar melancholy washes over him,

warm,

soft,

insistent,

he wonders if loss is all there is,

as it turns out…

In a vacuum its easy to say that one would never act vengefully and seek retribution, but in the moment, when the protagonist is a real life flesh and blood human, the equation changes, dramatically. At times, we all live in the world of ‘I would never’ as in ‘I would never act that way’ ‘Live that way’ ‘Treat someone like that’; ‘I would never be a hypocrite’ or ‘cruel’ or ‘petty’. The problem with all that is…..we are all those things, ‘like that’ sometimes. It has taken me a long time to learn, (an incredibly long time to learn, but whose counting) but the cliché about everything being an opportunity is absolutely right. The problem is, it is not always the opportunity that you are looking for or are prepared for, but it is often the opportunity that you need. For when you see problems as an obstacle and Not an opportunity you are the victim in the story. By seeing obstacles as an opportunity to be better, react better, change your mind, to see it differently, you are choosing to be in control, you are choosing to be in control of the situation, of your own life, of your ‘self’. The other cliché is ‘you can’t control anything but you can control how you react (feel) to/about it’, this is also true, but I want to take it a step further and suggest that you can more then just see it as an obstacle, a negative thing to get over or to make you better, you can also welcome it as a gift. Yup, a gift! But first you have to change your perspective about it, to view it the way you might view taking piano lessons for example; (not a great example but bear with me) when you start to learn the piano everything about it is a challenge, but you take lessons because you want to get better at it, you want to learn about it, there is a reason for subjecting yourself to the pain, a goal, a finish line; when you put this level of abstract reflection at yourself maybe with a little tweaking you can begin to see everything as an opportunity for growth, no matter how bleak.

The point is, it’s not supposed to be easy, all the ‘clichés’ are correct (or some of them anyway), if its easy you don’t learn, you only learn through pain to varying degrees. Some people are better at knowing what's good for them then others, its just a gift, unfortunately, one that the gods didn’t fain to imbue me with. Largely….we all went to school and learned a bunch of facts and how to do some math and about some history, but its all so vague and arbitrary without experience. Just a bunch or symbols and points. But the real education occurred when the girl you were in love with went for the hockey star or the rocker and not you; or the bullies crammed you into the locker or dumped your head in the toilet. That’s where your true self was molded. You became a reflection of what you didn’t like; largely the product of learning how to be the kind of person that avoids what you hate, the kind of person that doesn’t get royal flushed. That’s why bullies often were bullied and abusers were abused. People become the byproduct of their experience when they are unwilling or unable to do the work, the work of self reflection, the questioning of why we do the things we do; often its easier to just suppress and deny. If we just blame our abusers then we can be comfortable avoiding responsibility for our own actions. ‘It’s not my fault, don’t you know what happened to me!’. ‘The devil made me do it’.

Remember, you are not ‘obligated’ to think any particular way about anything. You don’t have to get upset, or annoyed or angry or frustrated, or seek revenge, these are choices, yup choices. You don’t have to let those that abused you win, they took what they took from you, and as long as you keep hurting yourself as a result, their still winning, still controlling you. Changing your thinking IS your life’s work and I know it’s hard in the moment but if you reflect on your thinking in stressful moments you will notice the little voice in your head asking you how you would like to handle any given situation, and often, we rely on what we have learned or observed from others or how we reacted in the past. It can be a kind of lazy thinking.

Of course, these things are never so simple, or easy in the moment, sometimes we are rejecting something so fundamental to our being, such as retaliating for a slight or insisting on being heard or understood, that to change our general reaction to these events is wrenching. But I am here to tell you that its worth it. I can’t tell you how many relationships I have ruined by reacting passionately, or aggressively or vengefully and honesty the old excuse that ‘it felt good at the time’ is actually wrong, I hate myself while I’m acting those ways and I hate myself after I act those ways. There is a certain release that I feel when I give into those passions but that is honestly weakness, losing the grip on the mane, similar to addiction to a drug. Think of it as taking control of your own mind.

Most of us think we control our minds, that we decide everything, but if we look closely at our actions, we may see that a lot of the time we are behaving reflexively or emotionally, without making the conscious decision to act, in any of the ways we act, at all.

How are we supposed to fall in love if we never meet?

So lets talk about online dating. Off and on I’ve been doing it, and railing against it, for years now, so although it may seem like a dated (sorry) topic, I think it’s important to explore a bit how it has not only changed how people meet, but has changed our views of love, relationships and how we treat each other. Our consideration, our compassion for each other is forever changed by living in a digital world.

One of the fundamental issues I have with online dating is the idea that you should “get to know someone” online before you actually meet, this never made any sense to me and is as modern as modern gets; the absurd notion that you can tell anything about someone from reading some facts on a page or even from a few “best behavior” conversations, is amazing. I’m sure what you write on your profile is your completely honest assessment of what your mild likes and dislikes are, but that’s not reality, its not nearly who you are on a day to day basis and it TOTALLY excludes a large part of relationships… Chemistry. The, in each others presence kind, you know, how people have been communicating since they’ve been walking upright. The belief that we now know better then all the humans who have ever lived (including Shakespeare and stuff, yup) as to the best way to initiate a relationship is disconcerting to say the least to anyone born before 1980. I have discussed this with more then a few woman and was surprised to learn a lot of them actually prefer to meet this way.

I‘ve heard all the reasons and they are not all without merit.

The issue of safely may be referenced of course, or volume.

As far as safety is concerned, it is a completely reasonable trepidation, my only counter would be, is a psycho going to tell you this during your first interaction? Or through text? Or say on their profile that they are, in fact, a violent psychopath? Probably not; there’s just no way to know till you actually are in someones presence. Coffee, a walk, ice skating, whatever, these are all real life ways to get a gauge on what someone is all about.

I’m often reminded, when navigating this topic, of the great underrated (or… umm…unknown) film “Amazon Woman on the Moon” which is a bunch of vignettes tied together with the “Time to Make the Donuts” guy (trust me, its much better then that sounds). The one I am referring to is the skit with Steve Guttenberg and Rosanna Arquette where he arrives for a first date and she asks him for his drivers license which she then runs through this phone, faxy thingy and it gives her a readout of his entire sexual history. Needless to say, the date didn’t happen. I remember thinking how ridiculous that seemed when I first watched it; it’s an absurd comedy after all, but the most amazing thing is anyone who saw that now wouldn’t think it was unusual at all, check it out here. It is truly an example of art (imitating? no) becoming life. Like 1984 or something.

Now don’t get me wrong, I have used these apps on occasion, due in large part to my changing careers. No longer working late nights, followed by drinking with coworkers, lowers your odd of meeting people drastically, who would’ve guessed that!? And also, when you get older its harder to meet people, it just is; who wants to hang out at the bar till closing 2–3 times a week after 40? Not too cool. So when in Paris right? It’s what everyone is doing now so you kinda have to, don’t you? I mean what’s the practical alternative? It hasn’t been a total disaster; I have even had women I met on these apps come directly to my house with nothing more then an exchange of a few text messages, I never would have imagined that 20 years ago. Talk about a tremendous potential for danger. So, that’s not it.

I have also met some really cool woman online and had some enriching, interesting evenings, and a few, I have seen more then once; the problem I think though is the perception that there is always somebody better. It is so easy now to meet online and hangout or hook-up that the stakes have changed tremendously.

One of the problems as I see it is the disposability of it all. Judging people in this way, mainly physically, and also making an immediate harsh determination, desensitizes us to meanness. At the first sign that someone, literally, is not Prince Charming or Sleeping Beauty, then see ya, I’m sure we’ll link up tomorrow with someone much better. Why stick around for someone who isn’t ‘perfect’? The whole online culture has tremendous potential to warp human compassion and patience.

We see it already with twitter wars and the posting of vicious insults between people who have never met; they feel they can treat each other however they want, without consequence. Its largely that, the lack of consequence. It creates a cold, harsh, superficial environment and dating apps are an extension of this societal shift. It’s this lack of sensitivity, compassion and consequence which contribute to the much larger problems we are now seeing with the increase in violence.

Your odds of success increase the more people you date, Volume; its science. Date a million people and your Bound to meet Someone. Right? Right? The problem is the antiseptic, cavalier nature of the matching can desensitize us to emotional investment, which is KINDA IMPORTANT when your goal is finding love, and also, what can be an individuals idea of who they are and what is good for them can make the matches inconsistent to say the least. Who we find attractive on a screen could be totally divergent from who would find us attractive or who would actually be right for us, or we could aim too high and just be disappointed over and over. Now, I’m all for taking chances and having high self esteem and all that, but if I’m not going to be happy with anyone who doesn’t look like Natalie Portman then I think I’m probably setting myself up for failure.

Online dating and these apps would be fine if it were part of a larger environment of dating, but the fact is, this is how most men and woman ages 20 to 40 are choosing to connect these days. I have had conversations with woman who have told me they only really consider guys they meet online. Now, I know i’m old, but this cant be good….and Get off my Lawn!

When you meet someone face to face, there is just so much different energy you are receiving from them, the way they move, their scent, the little nuisances when they speak, the sound of their laugh, voice; all these things are part of attraction. Not the bullshit blurb someone writes about who they think they are and all the pictures showing “WHAT A GOOD TIME I’M ALWAYS HAVING”. This is not who a person is, it is who they want to be and who they want the world to think they are. It could contain some elements of truth but it takes people a lifetime to know themselves, how could they accurately tell YOU? This creates an Illusion of safety. The idea of control. As a result we become less adept at interacting in person.

This technology and these options are in their cell splitting in the womb infancy, so maybe we will see some self regulating; maybe we will find a balance between on-line life and real life, I’m not saying there is no place for these conveniences, I’m just suggesting maybe we look up at what’s right in front of us a little again.

We were born into a world of magic, adults lived in the bright, obvious, serious, boring world, we moved in the shadows, in a world of endless possibility, we were sure of the magic, the air crackled as we moved through it, a familiar pleasant buzz in our ears, life coursing through us, older people went about their dreary days, the buzz silent, toiling, hardly noticing the adventures taking place around them, under foot, those times long forgotten, lost now, buried, hurt, pain, heartache, just for the oldies, we make our world, every moment to come sure to be more amazing than the last, glittering, elusively passing, fading, unknowingly, anticipation our power; churning through the world possessing unadulterated joy, oh so very young, our bodies burning, we knew how special, how rare and transient, but couldn’t quite truly feel it, didn’t care to, conviction weakened with lack of context, consequence not our destroying angel yet, but passion, studying the grain of the tree with earnest intensity. Passion without the crudeness of lust, free from vulgar desire, just before first kisses and crushes, passion for life, for living, for discovering, a world still new in our hands……….

The taste of burnt on our way overdone, dried out burgers, so perfect; with the ketchup dripping down our wrists as we rushed to finish and rejoin the reverie.

The scene changing from bright yellow to dusky brown before settling on a dusky moon lit charcoal, us just silhouettes bounding.

Mosquitoes chased all the while, leaving accepted welts, ignored for now, “Lets out run them!” “Ok!” “Look!” and the cloud of bugs trails after….

We caught fireflies at the edge of the bon fire while the parents all laughed and yelled, a distant garble of noise to us, proof though, that the nite was far from over; we put them in a pickle jar and put some grass in too, in case they got hungry, we poked holes in the top so they could breathe and danced around with our lighted jars, and were sad in the morning when we saw they had died, we dug little holes and buried them just so and moved on to the next game, after oatmeal and things…

At the beach we got too much sun and peeled and ached for days, as we ran back and forth into the icy water, trying to catch the tide the exact moment it changed from high to low. Grasping as the sea escaped through our fingers….

We dug shallow holes that filled with water and made mounds of castles…

We rolled down the cliff and got covered in sand and when we tried to run down our legs sank down to the knee…..

Time to go now, a sleepy buzz behind our eyes, as we ride in the car, with all the widows rolled down and the still hot air blasts our faces, the sun recedes again as another day fades……

We sleep in our still damp swim trunks with dirty feet….

An address to the tyranny of the banking system; the greatest threat to civilization.

This is not another, socialism is the answer piece; or a woe is me “don’t forget about the little people” entreaty. I am writing to call to your attention the unconstitutionality of what the banking system is doing to the American people.

The banks are stripping Americans of their wealth, freedom, political access, social and economic mobility and in the process transforming society in virtually all areas to ensure they get their share of all profits. They buy political influence and have attached themselves to every monetary transaction. EVERY-SINGLE-ONE while siphoning off their “fee”. The economy has largely been growing on credit for more then 50 years; the governments credit and your credit. This is spurious growth, fake growth, illusionary growth built on bank profits and public debt. Median wages stagnate for decades while the price of everything goes up, so what little savings you may have had, has now has been gobbled up by the inflation monster.

Insurance companies and banks have attached their tendrils into all aspects of public life. What has allowed them to grow to MONOLITHIC proportions is credit. A house that cost $12,000.00 30 years ago is now $500,000.00 because some banker had the great idea to allow those who didn’t have $12,000.00 up front to borrow it (for a fee, of course) and pay it back over time. So that the $12,000.00 house by the time it was paid off cost double or triple that; then it just keeps compounding. This allowed the banks to begin increasing the prices of houses while offering more and more “mortgages” to help middle class americans “afford” it and give the illusion that the economy was growing. The price of housing is going up! Great! But who really benefits most from that? You guessed it! The banks.

Insurance works the same way. Doctors have gotten rich off this and the industry has been able to charge inhuman prices backed by insurance, while due to all the inflated prices of necessities Americans have been ensnared on the never ending treadmill of debt. It is this circumstance which has allowed prices to greatly out strip wages. Credit and insurance. This not what the founding fathers had in mind. If you couldn’t afford it you couldn’t buy it, this would have the natural effect of bringing prices down, a novel idea. If the majority of Americans couldn’t afford it, the doctors and hospitals and homeowners would have no choice but to charge much, much less. Who would this hurt? Yup! The banks!

Now some lending is necessary to grow the economy this is true. But the purpose of a bank is not to derive more and more creative ways to steal the people’s money so that they can make riskier and riskier investments; the original purpose of a bank was to form a partnership with its citizens; to lend money in order to serve the public good and grow the economy through this lending at a “reasonable interest rate”. It was not to strip the citizens of every dime they have to create the largest profits for its partners and shareholders. Unfortunately that is what it has become.

It largely started in secret at Jekyll Island in 1913 with the creation of the Federal Reserve. An insatiable privately owned unconstitutional (it is unconstitutional of congress to abrogate responsibility of the the national currency to a private entity) monster of usury and theft; siphoning the public wealth through large and small measures. At times sabotaging the economy to close small businesses so that the larger corporations can buy up all the available real estate, and then, due to their exorbitant resources, massively increase the price of the property. At other times, banks are increasing their fee’s to the limits or the what the law allows them to charge which so disproportionately effects poor and lower income Americans to constitute blatant embezzlement. The boom and bust cycle we now find ourselves in started after the establishment of the Federal Reserve.

Banks make risky investments (with your money) to create larger and larger profits without consequence when they fail because either the government will bail them out or they will pass the debt onto the consumers. Middle class and working poor pay the bulk of this liability thru these outrageous fees and price increases. These policies overwhelmingly disproportionately effect middle and lower class Americas. Even though it is the money of these same citizens that the banks use to make these risky potentially high return investments; when banks guess right and make huge profits do they pass this onto the citizens who put the money up to begin with? Of course not, the banks simply continue to steal their money through huge fees and price gouges, which they have coerced the government to approve with very large campaign contributions. The policies, which banks propagate, only help the richest Americans, obviously.

The financial industry would cite “capitalism” as justification for this unethical behavior; but what they do not understand is the idea of capitalism is not to continue to manipulate the system to grow their wealth through usury and debt. Thomas Jefferson warned against allowing banks to move into a for profit model “If the American people ever allow private banks to control the issue of their currency, first by inflation, then by deflation, the banks and corporations that will grow up around them will deprive the people of all property until their children wake up homeless on the continent their Fathers conquered. I believe that banking institutions are more dangerous to our liberties than standing armies. The issuing power should be taken from the banks and restored to the people, to whom it properly belongs.”

“Give me control of a nations money supply, and I care not who makes it’s laws.” Do you know who said that? Nathan Rothschild, banker.

“He who controls the money supply of a nation controls the nation”: James Garfield.

This is coming to an end. It has too. Maybe this is naive and wishful thinking on my part, but the current system is unsustainable. Occupy was a start but quickly fizzled through a lack of a coherent message and organization; but the idea was right. Unfortunately the banks and corporations have the resources to wait out the people; it happens over and over.

I would like to know what happened to the idea of a partnership between banks and the community? How can there be a partnership when there is dishonesty and one participant is literally stealing the money of the other? Banks have completely lost their way and the whole reason for their existence.