thriving smokehouse economy

part of this therapy is sitting alone.

It is seeing torsos and hindquarters of meat cut up and marinated in a briny brine of the briniest brine that you can find...to be left in the corner like a bad child having committed the most heinous of crimes and uttered "geez...." as a profanity against our lord and savior Jesus Christ and all the sanctimony of sunday dinner! I mean GEEZ!! Give me fucking break.

The sacrifice of flesh as a symbol of faith is not profound or alien as it is a symbol of mortality. I posted a ditty on my facebook page:

"here we see the very real and practical application of meat as a sculptural material!! Notice the texture of the meat that has been rubbed in Muskrat Coffee- (available at www.muskratcoffeeco.com) and its contrast with the teryaki apple smoked hindquarter. The artist use of space in this piece indicates a presence that is minimal and yet firm; a kind of PURE foundation of primal desire and native Injunuity...the choice for display in the middle of the woods is an apparent and obvious homage to his forefathers and ancestral roots of being one with the land and in a fashion that denotes comfort and nobility. The use of photography to portray this moment presents us with a paradox of spirit and interpretation:is the scene beautiful in itself and does the relegating of this space to a two dimensional view detract from its significance...or is it merely the reinvention of how we connect as people to the objects of mortality? Does the objectification of what was once living flesh cross the bounds to sacrilege? And if so, how do we view the sacrifice of flesh in worship? we wonder. we live. we love."

not a chance.

It is the blurring of sacrifice versus natural law. It is the law of the jungle and the frat boy mentality of might makes right (as i heard Mr. Churchhill say). There are some that go willingly and others that are ordered to go. When the call comes; it is not for all. For others we go willingly.

We go willingly to the smokehouse to hang the hindquarters of naked flesh to the fires of dissent and anarchy. We light the fires of change as all things are born of fire; to rise and burn with all the grace of an old shaman in his final hours, only to die and dream those old fires. And in the smoke comes the change that is needed and required. It is the change of self and thought. One sentimental journey of imagination and destiny that has made me walk 1400 miles in the boots of my ancestors to arrive. And in arriving at the halls of nobility and destiny, a carpet of green dreams and cedar smoke haunted me. It bent the message. It bent the message to a point that the message broke...and in you allowing it to break, we became hostages to something as horrible and vicious as any war or oven fire or nails in hands and feet or crown of thorns.

we became hostages to ourselves.

and i woke up.

I woke to find that the world around me that had comforted for so long had been a prefabricated dream. I left the security of anonymity and ignorance and found some seeds of truth. I found prisoners of conscience right under the top layer of soil, looking to breathe free and grow. I found some semblance of value in recognizing my place in the history of my people. Not a martyr. not a martyr. not a martyr. just Marty...to not die for my people but live.

to free the seeds of doubts for so many and plant some hope in the hearts of others...but to be firm in resolve that there is war and with it comes casualties.

and in the silence you can hear them scream...when your sitting alone.

by the smokehouse.

stay in touch.

So i am managing through this whole issue of "reconnecting" with my PTSD after it lay buried under of warm, Pendleton of denial and solitude...awakening it may have not been a good thing...It may be the thing that pushes me over the edge of reason and into a whole new paradigm...It is what it is and in the end I probably owe a debt to the good colonel and his girlfriend for making me the crazy mother fucking indian that i have become...we will ride this last war pony to sundown...

So I am thinking that there is a whole secret issue behind this war. It is the closing gaps of old ancestoral spiritual wars between the Lakota and the Anishinabe. There are corners where a bit of resentment is stashed; in the name of culture and pride and entitlement and it is vigorously spent in the name of progress...and the new green economy. Indians who knock other indians for being wanna-be's are they themselves in a world of insecurity about identity. Agent Ginew is just harboring resentment about his own identity...and he is harboring it toward himself...like his business dont stink and he is the ALPHA and OMEGA of War Chiefs and everyone else is shit.

But it begs the question that ALL of Native America is on the throes of asking which is "Who the fuck am I?" Am I something that my old man would be proud of? Or would he be ashamed of me and my actions and attitudes to the point of dishing out some disapproval that I couldn't handle...? Does my daily interaction with people leave a good impression or do I act like MY way is the ONLY way...and push people away...to the point of emotional isolation? HMM? both of these apply to Ginew and WLD.

"I don't want to be a soldier; that the captain of some sinking ship would stow...far below...if you love me..why'd you let me go??? A good tune...

For me, I fight because no one told me to stop and even if they told me to; I wouldn't know how to. Too many people feel they have to fight in another's army or another's war and they promise great payouts of $30,000 or 45,000 to local charitable not for profits from the $17,000 that was paid to them from illicit and illegal fights. They offer the hope of a new world with the best of intentions and of course we know about the road that is paved with good intentions...it is slippery covered in the blood of indifference. My indifference is that i fight in my army with my orders. Thats the defining line between soldier and man. You can bark out orders like a soldier and expect that the world will dance a crow hop when any song is played...or you can be a man and lead by example...and be inclusive of the singers and the dancers and the drummers...and it will all go smoothly... or not...but at least the failure is shared and not on the shoulders of one lone ALMIGHTY gunman.

I will receive some criticism for this blog and my subsequent media frenzy. Fuck them. Who are you to tell me how I am supposed to deal with my "trauma" in this. If you don't like the battles, don't join the war. This is MY fight. If you don't like animals running free and wild, don't ask them to join the movement...and then bitch and moan when the animals thrive....

I can take the war. I am not going anywhere.

WE live. We pray. Bamaa.

i live

So lost on the road

so long in the soul

i work another day to gain

patience and wisdom

a man shunning the light of another night

a man shoving the truth down the throat of the insane

only to be reviled and scorned;

beaten and killed a thousand times by the knives of ancestors.

So long on the road

so long in the soul...

i live another day...

So here we go..
Apple Corp UNITE!!!
I seem to be getting some of my shit together. Some.
I direct a cast of apples to do my bidding!!! OOOOOooooooooH! scary!!! and they give me no shit. This whole apple thing is a response to Mr. Tony Tibbetts/ AKA Anthony DeClue; the mother fucker who took my woman and threatened to kill me THREE times...(on record with various police departments) just so he can be with her and she can get her wind turbine up....great...oh well...such is the shit of my life...

he called me an apple...and then proceeded to give me fashion advice about "wearing the clothes of the oppressor"...(I was wearing cordouroys) WHAT!!...are you fucking kidding me!! from a guy in cowboy boots?? fuck no!! What is this whole apple bullshit?? Some are and some aren't? Riding a horse doenst make you king of cowboys my friend...king of da cowboys...king of da cowboys...So in my reflection...i decided to make apples dance for me...hows that for a god complex? There is a certain peace of mind that appens when you are smoking large hunks of meat in a tar paper shack...it is the call of the wild. it is the primal desire and moan of satiation and carnivourous attitude...So now i find myself in exile on the island madeline...out of lost love and alot of looking out from the creator....the signs are there...you just have to look for them...and in looking for the signs i am finding out more about myself...about MY PTSD...and my level of inanity...strange rumblings from the north shore...on tribal land...where the manitous are not so shy and the memigweshi run from dune to dune...under the cover of a wisp of sand...a great lynx at the waters edge drinking and ...with all of this...it is just life....i tell people every now and then that "if it werent for the work, i would blow my head off...thank god we got alot of work eh?!?"...it keeps them on edge...no one thought i would get this far...In this here war...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2JHFvZJwPs

GIVE ME>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Good morning....
what we have in mind is breakfast in bed for...tribal security.

There is rumblings on the horizon. There may be freedoms ring tramppled under foot of tribal interest. They corner for where curry used to write may be demolished. There is rumblings underfoot that the new faces of Tribal Council may be killing curry corner. The issue that "its not fair that Marty gets an opinion column and I have to pay $500.00 to express my opinion."
My response to that issuee...."YOUR DAMN RIGHT". In my tenure as journalist and former Tribal Observer staff member; the discussions that needed to happen had to happen behind closed doors. I remember many a staff meeeting where the line had to be drawn regarding "what was fit to print and what was not." This was happening in during political transition and the Observer was trying to finally open up in terms of letting it be a sounding board of the community. The issue of having to pay for political speech is criminal and the tribe is not benfiting from the disucssions that COULD BE HAPPENING. The notion that the Tribal Council would squash the only opinion column is hilarious. It kicks the dead dog of freedom that used to run the rez like a ravenous spirit, devouring fear...and now you have to pay 500 bones to raise the spirit.
But there is more. Lets not forget that Councilwoman Benz also used to write for the TRibal Observer. It was only after her refusal to accept editorial standards for her great pieces from WIKI that she stopped writing. She was under contract and never renewed...and now? How will she vote? If she votes to demolish the Curry Corner, she is a hypocrit for wanting freedom of press when it benefited her and against Freedom of the Press when it stands to hurt her. Michelle Stanley's big beef is that she wants to railroad the paper to hold her seat against Frank Cloutier who is the better fit for the needs of At Large. Fred uses the paper to launch a bible campaign to appeal to the Christian Coalition there by securing the Next Election. It is what is is....but it is not free.

If someone has a beef about the right and time to express opinion Tribal Members should not have to pay. No one should. We get so mad about the Morning Sun airing out dirty laundry and yet we are not willing to take the steps to secure out freedom of press...or of speech. This is indicative of larger problems. mi'iw.

more.

One of the biggest gripes I have about the Tribe is our inability to accept emotional responsibility for our future. There is this ownership of oppression that is occurring and it sickens and disgusts me. There is the notion that if you didn’t grow up on Rez that somehow you are not entitled to “an Indian experience.” All the stories about “commodity cheese this…” and “commodity cheese that…” take on less magic when you say “ I was living on commodity cheese in the city.” As if to suggest that I am less of a Saginaw Chippewa than you because I grew up off Rez. There are individuals and collectives that OWN INDIAN and if you ‘aint a part of the club; then yous shit. I for one cannot stand it.

In the recent tirade in the Morning Sun online article “Tribal Members Protest…” he feedback was fiery. All the hallmarks of emotional distrust and immaturity one would expect in a high school fight; except no class rings. I had to put in my two sense because the article confused me. It was about both police brutality and protest over the appointment of a council member. In joining the gossip wheel I had to launch my campaign for election in a public forum. Some politicians hold rallies and press conferences; I just had to get online. The big issue that was subverted…both of them but for arguments sake lets say the police brutality issue.

We have a public safety force comprised of Federal/Tribal law enforcement that is supposed to be looking out for the greater good. There is a multi million dollar casino right next door and thusly warrants some security. There are members of the community who like to drink and party. There are others who choose not to. Sometimes the cops get called to break up a party, or stop some domestic violence or to maybe pull someone over. Sometimes they deal with bomb threats. There are good people looking out for the interest of the Tribal Community.

There is an over response issue with in the police community around the country. Black kids in NYC shot 30 sometimes for having a wallet that was mistaken for a gun. A black man on his bachelor party shot 60 something times for a minor infraction. Too many times the level of response is not justified. Sometimes it is.

There is a time for boot toes to the head…especially in self-defense. And that is the line.

When is it good to fight? The liberals want to ban war and the conservatives want to clone the still born fetus of war all the way to Armageddon. How did we live to be so young a species with extremes like that? I am a gun owner and neither a republican or a democrat. The Dems don’t want me because I am pro-gun and pro gun and the Pubs don’t want me because I am pro-social liberation movement in all things they want to bust on, like telling some folks who they can marry and who their supposed to love and all that Shiite. The Green Party looked good when Winona LaDuke was in the mix and the Libertarians are ratcheting up the game to get more candidates in the mix…bravo…but whose gonna be in it for the long haul? The concept of gun rights on the Saginaw Chippewa Indian Reservation hasn’t been addressed. They exist on the Rez and even though we have our own sovereign law, I still have to go through the State to apply for a concealed weapon permit. Hows that and how is it that they wont let you have a CCW if you have applied for a PPO? Isn’t that the best time to have a CCW?

I saw bumper sticker on the back of an old rusted down Ford truck with a black topper. On the back right window it said “I’m Licensed and I Carry.” Fuck Yeah. Put a couple of those on the Rez and one of two things are gonna happen. 1. The neighborhoods are gonna get a lot quieter and less rowdy….or 2. The neighborhoods are gonna get a lot noisier and more rowdy.

Who can say?

Guns are a part of our heritage. They are the tool for equality and harvest. The tool of self- preservation and sustinance. It is “cavalry killer” and lodge protector. The fire stick. And our rights as both American Citizens and Tribal Citizens shall not be infringed.

I need some more coffee.

Freak Power in Indian Country

My favorite political expression is “ We should not be playing partisan politics”

It begs the question “Isn’t that what you were elected for?”

America has been, and in some corners, thrives on partisanship and our tribal communities, as a microcosm of America, hold true to that as well. From the way we talk about (or don’t) talk about social issues, to the way we choose to have discussions in a loud and confrontational manner…the Hatfield and McCoy’s…it gets emotionally violent. America is the bully pulpit of “might makes right” and Tribes should not be so bold as to adopt this way. It has cost us dearly both at home and around the world.

From the “good day-bad day” US foreign relations to the “bad day-worse day” scenarios we face here in Indian Country, the important dialog isn’t happening on Avenue Q or at the tribal community centers. Our oratory is failing us in a time when it has the power to save our political lives; our spiritual lives and a lot of other people in the process. My Tribe is in its death throes and as rigor mortis sets in…the business of bully special interest government prevails over something different…something new...something that has the power to inject the body politic with high doses of epinepherine and adrenaline. Can the system handle it?

Perhaps the fault is mine and viewing Indian Country and my community from a distance (through the storm colored glasses) doesn’t serve the need inside myself to feel “a part” of the club. Maybe even in Indian Country there are still outsiders; a part of the community much akin to “the Silent Majority” of the Nixon Era. Where self-determination is being relegated to “political and economic” assimilation in minutiae. We had a clean slate to make ANY government we wanted; and we chose to model it on a system that is as corrupt and exclusionary as the feds…and the states…where the corporate (and familial) ruling of some Tribal communities excludes those of us with small families? Being left out of the discussion we ask…are our elected leaders the best ones for the job?

America was looking for change. The critics and the cynics chide those who voted for change and even now the bumper stickers are pasted; “How’s that HOPE and CHANGE working for ya?” Indian Country is much the same way…looking for a change and it is going to take more and more struggle against the dominant structures on one level and against our cousins and family on another. It is Civil War on a tribal level and it will cost us more HOPE. And the divisions will become chasms… I think it is time to inject the freak power vote in Indian Country…on the Sag Chip Reservation…for mother, god and country.

America is being forced to embrace that there are more harmonious ways of living on the planet; pulling away from coal and exposing the disasters of epic proportions (see TAR SANDS!) to embracing massive engineering projects at a local level to capture the wind and the sun; realizing the need for clean water and sustainable local food production. We as Tribal people should feel good that we won that round. We shouldn’t stick out our tongue and NYAH NYAH…(or should we) and I am not sure who is keeping score, but a one-victory season is not a lost season. As the issue of climate change and respecting the land, the air and the water…is moved forward (for better or worse depending on which side of the fence you stand) we can only hope that this GREEN INJUN-UITY… it works and we haven’t been thrown in with the others in a canoe that can’t float.

We live day by day. We pray hard. Curry for Council 09.

Bamaa.