"We Build Our Own Monsters"

"I want the laws to change so that children aren't property."


Hi gang. Something really important this entry.

On January 14, Vachss will be answering questions about his books, his practice...anything his audience submits on a live webcast. I guarantee that you will be riveted once he opens his mouth. I dare you to dismiss it. TiVo the damn Grey's Anatomy. Don't contribute to the ignorance.

I was at a holiday party speaking with a woman who counsels children from broken homes, foster homes, abusive homes. I felt sure when I mentioned Andrew Vachss that she and I would have a lengthy and passionate dialogue. Not so. She had no idea who Vachss is. Not that I'm an expert in criteria, but everyone from law enforcement and social work to bag boys and ice-skaters should know who this man is.

Readers, do yourselves a favor: take 10 seconds to peruse his site. There is nothing more important than what Andrew stands for. There is horror inflicted on children every second and our laws protect the predators.

There are incest laws that treat predators with more leniencies; the crime is considered less severe because it happens within the family. The prey is returned to same cage as the predator and the laws state that it's not only tolerated, but acceptable.

Did you know this?!
Are you ok with this?!

Prick up your ears, readers. It's effortless, really, to just be a tad more aware of this cycle of abuse and how it's perpetuated and, dare I say, nearly encouraged by our lackadaisical attitudes.

How often do you get coupons in your mailbox for carpet cleaning or RV rentals? Do you ever take a milli-second to check the back of those coupons? Have you seen me?

Children do not have rights until they're 18 years old and by then it's far too late. The abuse has taken place, the child picks up the cycle or the child is dead.

It doesn't cost anything to be aware. Knowledge is free. I'm not asking you to donate anything, sign a petition or call your governor. Just pay attention.

Vachss began as a federal investigator of sexually transmitted diseases. He encountered a case where a tiny baby had contracted syphilis after being sodomized by the father. Vachss sat face to face with this monster who responded with 'It's my kid. I'll do what I want to it and it's no business of the government.'

That was the first of a community of devils that Vachss encountered. And so it began.

In a nutshell, Vachss began writing books that gained a tremendous cult following. They are wicked cool pulp that are journalistic, not fictionalized. They're fantastic reads, but my favorite part about his books is that they fund his practice. He's devoted his life to representing child victims and he does it with razor-sharp precision.

"I try cases where, if I lose, the predator gets to take the victim home. There's no margin for error.”

I don't care if you don't have kids. I don't care if you don't even like kids. We should be humiliated to be part of a species that creates, tolerates, protects monsters who rob and feed off innocents. You can't call them animals. I know of NO other species that permits habitual abuse of its young.

On January 14, Vachss will be answering questions about his books, his practice...anything his audience submits on a live webcast. I guarantee that you will be riveted once he opens his mouth. I dare you to dismiss it.

TiVo the damn Grey's Anatomy. Don't contribute to the ignorance.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andrew_Vachss

http://www.vachss.com/

http://www.vachss.com/anotherlife/webcast_2009.html

http://www.speakupstudios.com/Listen.aspx?ShowUID=256284

http://www.protect.org/

...did i mention that he's a dog lover?

his writing:


Flood (1985)
Strega (1987)
Blue Belle (1988)
Hard Candy (1989)
Blossom (1990)
Sacrifice (1991)
Down in the Zero (1994)
Footsteps of the Hawk (1995)
False Allegations (1996)
Safe House (1998)
Choice of Evil (1999)
Dead and Gone (2000)
Pain Management (2001)
Only Child (2002)
Down Here (2004)
Mask Market (2006)
Terminal (2007)
Another Life (Dec. 30, 2008)

[edit] Other novels
A Bomb Built in Hell (1973)
Shella (1993)
Batman: The Ultimate Evil (1995)
The Getaway Man (2003)
Two Trains Running (2005)

[edit] Short story collections
Born Bad (1994)
Everybody Pays (1999)
Proving It (2001) Audiobook collection.
Dog Stories Online collection.

[edit] Graphic novels and series
Hard Looks (1992-93) Ten-volume series.
Batman: The Ultimate Evil (1995) Two-volume graphic novel.
Cross (1995) Seven-volume series with James Colbert.
Predator: Race War (1993) Five-volume series; (1995) Single-volume graphic novel, collection of 1993 series.
Alamaailma (1997) Finnish graphic novel, illustrating two of the "Underground" short stories from Born Bad.
Hard Looks (1996, 2002) Single-volume trade paperback.
Another Chance To Get It Right: A Children's Book for Adults (1993, 1995) (Reprinted with additional material, 2003.)

[edit] Plays
Placebo (in Antaeus, 1991)
Warlord (in Born Bad, 1994)
Replay (in Born Bad, 1994)

[edit] Non-fiction
The Life-Style Violent Juvenile: The Secure Treatment Approach (Lexington, 1979)
The Child Abuse-Delinquency Connection — A Lawyer's View (Lexington, 1989)
Articles in PARADE Magazine (1985-2006)
Other Articles and Essays (1985-2006)

deeannland, frozen

~"Loose" by Primer. i'm glad i'm too old to be in the audience when they sing this song, but i do miss those mosh-pit days.  last time i was in a mosh-pit, i lost a shoe.  Sandon, if you're reading, thanks for piggy-backing me home.

~Encounters at the end of the world, by W. Herzog.  want a good cry? watch the penguin scene. want to feel fascination, surprise and small? watch the diving scenes.

~"Even when the bird is walking we know that it has wings." ~Victor Hugo because just once, you should walk passed someone, make eye-contact, and just know.  i hope it's happened to you.  something you won't forget.

hi gang.  been dealing with some personal things of late and the blog suffers.  i've never ever been one to write a journal or any such, so i'm always slightly disgusted and amused that i come back.  at least three times a week i hear from someone who says that they watched one of my movies, loved a quote, discovered a song or 'got' what i said and usually adds to it.  this i love. maybe that's why i come back.  not to contribute at all, but to hear from you.  so, i've said it before..thanks again.

a little while back, i wrote something about my memories of driving to mammoth lakes, not very long after i finished chemo.  it still feels relevant.  i have pretty steadfast memories of the trip, the time and introspection.  i went to mammoth to help paint a house.  i saw a big beautiful bear about 3 feet away from me and i saw the stars clearer than anywhere i've ever seen them.  i remember taking an early-morning walk and the silence of the cold was unlike anything. i wanted to strip down and disappear.  i still do.

Driving through hundreds of acres of desert, I didn’t feel the beauty of it, I didn’t listen to the Joshua trees, all I could think was How many rapes happened here? How many bodies buried? How many wide-eyed pleas? Duct-taped mouths? I wanted to ask the driver to stop the car- don’t even pull over, there’s no need, just stop. There was no one before or after us. Let me work my way through the sand. I don’t think I’d have to dig to find a stray tooth or wristwatch. We drove on.
We passed a town called Okinyoke, a name i considered around my tongue. There was a place named Independence that had exactly 14 houses, a playground, 4 tricycles, an impala on blocks, and a functioning jail that is nearly larger than the town. We stopped in a town called Jerkette Junction where a man missing fingers said he lives on a gold-mine that eats strangers, especially government men. He told me he had a dog like mine, but the coyotes got her. There was no expression in his tales and likewise, I felt nothing. Where once I was proud of curiosity, now I sauter interest. I am interested in the wrong things. I know it.
For two years, I lived in an arid scape, very much like these towns, that was peppered with one-room haunts. All of the windows and all of the doors were boarded; those that were pried were dangerously opened, by ruffians and guiltless ne'er-do-wells. The quiet of these stops was unnatural. The towns suddenly just lost. 

There was a long dog chain attached to no dog, but tied to a signpost that read: SEVERED HEAD FALLS: Come make a wish. I dropped many shiny coins into the town well, but never once heard them hit bottom. This is chemo.

a fantasy i'd love to land

~"Rich Girl" by The Virgins because it's funky and good for hip-swayin'.

~'Little Britain', an English comedy series. it's not great like 'Absolutely Fabulous' or 'The Young Ones', but there's a skit that is at once tender and funny between the characters Lou and Andy. i pretty much giggle and say 'aaaohw'.

"I always wake up at the crack of ice." -Joe Lewis. kids, i know drinking too much is bad just like i know smoking and sex in a gas station bathroom that doesn't have a lock on the door is bad, but it's the only vice i've got left (except for high heels. shut up.)

hi gang. been a while. i used to be disciplined about my writing when i was younger. that's not true. not disciplined, exactly. if i went a day without writing i felt oogy. now, not so much. with a lot of things that come with age, there are a lot of things that go with age. anyhow, i was thinking about my perfect day(s). because today was definitely less-than. i've got a few perfect day fantasies. i think this one qualifies as a perfect day-in-the-life fantasy. here's what i got:

i've never been to montana. but i think about it. it could be anywhere, i suppose. i fantasize that i live on several acres in a state or country that has red dirt. even though i live on several acres, somehow, dolly parton and sia are my close neighbors. naturally, we all have sun rooms and porches with swings. on an ideal day, dolly knocks on my door about 10.30am and wants to know if i've got any baking soda. of course i do because i bake. she takes it and as she's stepping off the porch, sia is coming through the picket fence with two bottles of champagne in each hand. i say, "come on up, but what are YOU gonna drink?" sia giggles and we're wearing matching pink high-tops. dolly decides that her banana bread can wait and sits on the porch with sia and i and we drink and laugh about boys and how weird feet are. i've got goats and dogs running in and out of the house. their names, collectively, are Tallulah, Louie, George, Hank, Lulu, Darla, Dahlia, Daisy, Sarge, Boogie, Buster and Dude. the weather is warm warm warm. oh! and there's a law&order marathon playing on mute in the front room and we're listening to a mix of salsa and dido (who's moving to our neighborhood, too). i put out a cheese plate, dance salsa with sia (who's plays the part of the man. ahem), and dolly tries on some of my heels even though they're too big for her. the sun falls, i turn on the xmas lights. the gals go home and i take a bath. the next afternoon, dolly and sia come over with fresh banana bread and a movie. and dido.

i've got a dozen perfect days. stay tuned. thanks for staying with me, gang. it's been a rough ride and this life is a strange strange cargo.