A Freeway in Hell

My thoughts on the nature of our late capitalist society. The title should give some clue what I think of that! US 101 or I-80 as metaphor for our imperatives. Besides worrying about what sort of black hole we are speeding into, I like airships. One reason being the almost inescapble desire to have one to get out of a traffic jam!

Location: Sonoma County, California

Grew up a military brat, Californian-in-exile, reactionary libertarian-essentially spent the 70s on Mars, for I am hearing impaired and I did not know what the music was saying. Generally still don't unless I listen to it over and over or find the words captioned on a movie or somewhere on line. Came "back" to California to begin my adult life, have not lived elsewhere since. No regrets there despite our problems here. Have studied physics, more math than most human beings will ever need, worked on spaceship projects (well, one) at JPL. Lived with a wonderful disabled person who lives no more--L Natasha Littletree RIP October 2004. I have a life plan, just kind of vague on some of the short-term stuff.

Friday, March 04, 2005

Who was Natasha you ask?

L Natasha Littletree, 1990 with real bunnies, and real canary in fake pose and stuffed bunny Photoshopped in

Natasha was my dear lady. She was the person I lived with until she couldn't live any more, and the website we did together was some of our best work. And she did a lot of good work.

Here, here's the old site, it should be good at least till September 2005 and I will do what I can to keep it up after that.


Anonymous aikane said...

Mark, I am sorry Natasha is no longer with you. I looked at the site you did together. Thank you for continuing to share her and yourself with us.

3/12/2005 8:15 AM  
Blogger WhyNot said...

Mark, I share Aikane's sentiments. I also think it is wonderful you keep Natasha's site up. I dread the day when my lady will be gone, and I don't know whether I'll have the strength to do what you're doing. Selfishly, I think I'd rather be the one to go first.

3/13/2005 5:28 PM  
Blogger Mark H. Foxwell said...

Thanks. But really, what else would I do? It is like when Natasha heard someone was doing a story on the "bravery" of Bay Area commuters who "dared" to cross the great bridges of the Bay--that meant exclusively the Golden Gate and the Bay Bridge; us peripheral types who crossed the Richmond/San Rafael bridge did not count. But what else would we do? Would she quit the MFA program at Mills? Would we hide in our house and hope no one noticed us? Well not her anyway. She thought the story was silly, especially if it didn't cover all the bridges.

So what else will I do? Check out? I tend to disbelieve a lot of the suicides one hears of lately were. Sometimes I wonder if Natasha herself finally decided on some level to just let go--I know some days lately it just seems inevitable.

She got a bunch of music just before she died--Johnny Hartford was one name I did not know, but I love him now. We should all know his "I'm Still Here." "I might be good as dead...but I'm still here." Then there is "California Earthquake." "They tell me the faultline/runs right through here."

Indeed it does.

I'm still here, until I'm not. Where I am, she is remembered. Maybe that will motivate her to hand us some victories so we keep going...but she knows I have to keep going till something else gets me. It's the rule.

3/20/2005 12:13 AM  
Blogger Florisv said...

Reading trough Natasha's work and your work on the old site, I get the impression that she was really a special person. I'm sorry to hear, she passed away. Where you live, she is remembered.

This poem was written some time ago, but if you want to use it for some non-commerical use, then please feel free to do so, its licensed using this license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)



Its becoming dark now,
soon duisternis (=darkness) will come
and then after a while when all natural lights have dissapeard,
the night will fall.

Tommorrow the sun will rise again
and light will awake those alseep.
A new day is born.
A cycle continuing into eternity,
hopefully that is.

So goes life,
one day at a time,
till the day comes,
when we fall asleep for the last time,
but we only die for real when we are forgotten.

Lets not forget those, we knew,
because in our memory of them they will live on.

Written in memory of my grandmother and other old people
i used to know but who have already passed away.

I'm sorry for only posting now, I've been to imersed in ideas, these last couple of weeks.

4/12/2005 8:03 AM  

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