I Tweet, Therefore I am.

Of course I also fill my days with other stuff. I tweet when I'm mad or am amused. Today I was amused at the puffins, they are such incredible birds. I'm always nervous when they take off, they never look as if they're going to quite make it. But they do. They wobble crazily into the sky and can't be bothered building nests. They just dig a hole any old where.

I tweeted about City Hall here hosting an all-hail to prostitution sex workers. Simple question of them: special shrine to pimps and johns and trafficked women and girls? Not to mention all the thousands and thousands of murdered and missing victims? I suppose the councillors want their daughters/sons growing up to be involved in the sex trade? Have they ever known exited sex workers? I have.

I took a picture of my fireside table. You can't see the daily journal and my Tao meditation book which grounds me every morning. You can see my knitting. I could be working on a larger unfinished project but I'm not. Just these pretty little (fast) cloths in a sunburst of colours.

I have big news but I'm holding on to it for a while. I never know who reads this and I have to impart news to beloveds first. It's good, it's great, it's wonderful.

We broadcasted a shout out for my young friend who's moving into her very first home by her very own self, asking for household goods.

And my gawd, she is completely furnished from her cutlery to her bed to toilet paper and cleaners. Not a thing to be bought. People's generosity makes me cry in gratitude. She is overwhelmed.

And that's the really good news of the day.

Pornography & Prostitution Part 5

It seems to me like I've written on these topics ad nauseum but there is always something to add.

During some lean years I had a weekend job as an operator in an answering service. Doctors, lawyers, locksmiths, taxi services and escort services were the clients.

During those weekends I developed a rapport of trust with these 'escorts' whilst dispensing their outcalls. What euphemisms are used by the press for this, the oldest 'profession'. No one can bear to call prostitution what it is, we dress it up in "high priced call-girls" and "professional escorts". Without exception all these working women I dealt with were hooked on cocaine.

Profession it ain't. The word profession means a modicum of respectability, a level of respect. None of which are present in the sordid transactions of the purchasing of sex for cash.

I was reminded of this in the fall from grace of Eliot Spitzer. How does he reconcile his participation in the degradation of a woman while being the father of two daughters not much younger than the woman he raped for a fee? And rape it is. There is no love, it is merely the purchase of a masturbatory-tube. Offered for sale by a more than likely addict, herself abused and demeaned in the past. No one would sell herself in this way without some sad story.

I know. I talked to enough of these women whether $500 a night or $100 a blowjob. It was all about pain - incest, abandonment, addiction, lack of educational opportunities.

And the epithet 'whore' being slung around by the oh-so-highminded MSM? She is further dehumanized. The rape doesn't stop with Eliot.