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Only half the job done and the grapes of wrath! I'd learned from a hard life on how a battle could be won, and my nimble body and quick kicks never let me down.( busted kneecaps and busted balls among my speciality) An agreement was made behind my back and I took it gladly as I really wasn't the person I'd been forced to become. My father always unhappy about the half cooked girl he'd finished up with. He blamed the doctor for not producing as he'd promised. The same problems dogged me everywhere though and even on my uncles farm the bad ones showed up to resume the fight. Not all were bad and the gen X's had been brought up well in the bush schools to be more accepting. I'd grown up a wordless freak too, being branded as autistic left in the class to ponder my own thoughts. It was so insulting to be in that special class of misfits who really were the stupid ones. I laughed so much watching the scene in Billy Madison of Billy making fun of the who couldn't get the words out. It really was like that in my class. I soon found I loved to read and it created a vitality in me, inspired me to bigger thoughts and as it was initially only the bible I read as that was the only book I had, I soon saw myself as a rider on one of those horses of doom. The revelation was my thing. People loved it too and I was often told about a b&y who impressed by knowing all the psalms, exact numbers and all and he'd pull the right one out for the trouble he was seeing at that moment. I had no doubt he was real as on my travels he'd regularly show up in peoples recollections. I never did meet him. I couldn't slew what I was doing to that, had no desire for it. Then it all came out of the blue so quick, what turns would quickly shape my new life. Uncle was sick and it wasn't till after he was gone that I understood how he was preparing me to take over his role of managing the land properly. And loving everything that lived in it. Even the dead trees were stuff he loved and it was their artistic function or maybe even a dire message on how things would end. I loved that about the start of the movie Labyrinth, the way the captured the sky. I am so impressed by that and it is an offshoot of the film for me that impressed me so much. I made my own film later on that took on this storyline and I built it up slowly to the crushing and inescapable conclusion. I found The grapes of wrath in my dead uncles stuff and decide to read that. Also chariots of the gods and some others like that and my interest in the other side, aliens and lost races all fed my very curious soul. I became so lost in that that I closed the gates, pad locked them so I could avoid any distractions that tried to anchor me to the past that I had no interest it. I meditated and by some miracle I defeated that clod wrenching bi-polar disorder and emerged into a new fresh existence. I'd escaped from what I thought I'd surely die with. I'd found a heroine too, he was named Noah and he and I were very alike. Of few words and no interest in the usual games of life. It was the wilderness or nothing, do or die, whatever it brings. The alien thing reached out a had too and met some or those "freaks' out on a mission. They were looking for a hill where it was rumored could be a base of some sort where the aliens built craft that could fly silently and fast ! Why no? Why not get involved. I still felt my uncles spirit and I gathered he was interested in stuff like that. His whispers too from the other place could be insightful and may be even warnings of places not to go.           Imagine my surprise when I found out that my opinion actually mattered!  |
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"In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage." ~ John Steinbeck
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"In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage." ~ John Steinbeck  Imagine my surprise when I found out that my opinion actually mattered!
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“The works of the roots of the vines, of the trees, must be destroyed to keep up the price, and this is the saddest, bitterest thing of all. Carloads of oranges dumped on the ground. The people came for miles to take the fruit, but this could not be. How would they buy oranges at twenty cents a dozen if they could drive out and pick them up? And men with hoses squirt kerosene on the oranges, and they are angry at the crime, angry at the people who have come to take the fruit. A million people hungry, needing the fruit- and kerosene sprayed over the golden mountains. And the smell of rot fills the country. Burn coffee for fuel in the ships. Burn corn to keep warm, it makes a hot fire. Dump potatoes in the rivers and place guards along the banks to keep the hungry people from fishing them out. Slaughter the pigs and bury them, and let the putrescence drip down into the earth. There is a crime here that goes beyond denunciation. There is a sorrow here that weeping cannot symbolize. There is a failure here that topples all our success. The fertile earth, the straight tree rows, the sturdy trunks, and the ripe fruit. And children dying of pellagra must die because a profit cannot be taken from an orange. And coroners must fill in the certificate- died of malnutrition- because the food must rot, must be forced to rot. The people come with nets to fish for potatoes in the river, and the guards hold them back; they come in rattling cars to get the dumped oranges, but the kerosene is sprayed. And they stand still and watch the potatoes float by, listen to the screaming pigs being killed in a ditch and covered with quick-lime, watch the mountains of oranges slop down to a putrefying ooze; and in the eyes of the people there is the failure; and in the eyes of the hungry there is a growing wrath. In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage.” ― John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath was a denunciation of capitalism run horrifyingly amok during the Depression. The protagonists were forced to starve while watching food being destroyed in the name of 'profit.' Spoiler alert: Things do not end well for the people in the story. It is a terrifying book that everyone should read.
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“The works of the roots of the vines, of the trees, must be destroyed to keep up the price, and this is the saddest, bitterest thing of all. Carloads of oranges dumped on the ground. The people came for miles to take the fruit, but this could not be. How would they buy oranges at twenty cents a dozen if they could drive out and pick them up? And men with hoses squirt kerosene on the oranges, and they are angry at the crime, angry at the people who have come to take the fruit. A million people hungry, needing the fruit- and kerosene sprayed over the golden mountains. And the smell of rot fills the country. Burn coffee for fuel in the ships. Burn corn to keep warm, it makes a hot fire. Dump potatoes in the rivers and place guards along the banks to keep the hungry people from fishing them out. Slaughter the pigs and bury them, and let the putrescence drip down into the earth. There is a crime here that goes beyond denunciation. There is a sorrow here that weeping cannot symbolize. There is a failure here that topples all our success. The fertile earth, the straight tree rows, the sturdy trunks, and the ripe fruit. And children dying of pellagra must die because a profit cannot be taken from an orange. And coroners must fill in the certificate- died of malnutrition- because the food must rot, must be forced to rot. The people come with nets to fish for potatoes in the river, and the guards hold them back; they come in rattling cars to get the dumped oranges, but the kerosene is sprayed. And they stand still and watch the potatoes float by, listen to the screaming pigs being killed in a ditch and covered with quick-lime, watch the mountains of oranges slop down to a putrefying ooze; and in the eyes of the people there is the failure; and in the eyes of the hungry there is a growing wrath. In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage.” ― John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath was a denunciation of capitalism run horrifyingly amok during the Depression. The protagonists were forced to starve while watching food being destroyed in the name of 'profit.' Spoiler alert: Things do not end well for the people in the story. It is a terrifying book that everyone should read.  As shownImagine my surprise when I found out that my opinion actually mattered!
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