764. Cycle of Operations

Cycle of Operations

Cocking clean adolescence,
Feeding murder machine,
Chambering tri-colored rage,
Locking sights on the scene.

Firing closed system,
Unlocking oiled hate,
I, extract stories of spine;
Eject soul, at a cyclical rate.







All content ©Dario DiBattista 2012. All posts are for display purposes only and not to be considered published.

763. Facebook and the Political Process

These are the thoughts in my head when I scroll over my "newsfeed" these days:

Almost any political graphic to me is just pure propaganda. And I'm a tad annoyed how some people think a single image, a few "facts," or a quote out of context is going to change my vote on anything.

I know how to read books and do research. I've taken the time to contemplate political thought and theory and see firsthand how government works. I consider the main issues that are important to our nation and their possible solutions. If your argument is so simple it can be articulated in the ways above, it's probably not the best argument you can make.

I think we need to get back to having real political conversations and real political discourse instead of always trying to shock or gimmick each other into believing what our side wants the other side to believe. Democracy shouldn't be about bullying and manipulation and cherry-picking facts -- it should be about stimulating reason and promoting realistic progress.

I'm not saying don't participate in the political process in the ways above if you so choose and it makes you feel like you have a voice. I'm just saying, maybe there are better and more effective ways to communicate your beliefs. Maybe, if you challenge yourself enough to be able to articulate your beliefs as well as you can, you'll find your ideas will change and your understanding will grow and evolve :-)

This blog post is not directed at any one of my friends in particular. I'm just sharing my beliefs like many of you are, too. I won't get offended if you won't ;-)

762. Finally Moving On

If you've ever wondered why my blogs are numbered, it's because I've literally written this many blogs since I first started in 2005 (and many more for other sites). This blog, my blogger blog, starts at 701. The previous ones were on my myspace.

Anyway, here's your last chance to read all the embarrassing stuff I wrote when I was crazy after coming home from war. January 1, 2012, I will finally delete my myspace. You laugh, but blogging changed my life. I needed writing.

www.myspace.com/theechooftheburstofashell

761. Dario's Guest Blog for the USMC!

You can see the post on the Marines official blog here!

Why Do We Celebrate Today? (The Marine Corps Birthday)

It’s likely been happening all day that some of my friends on Facebook have looked at my page and become confused. It’s not his birthday, is it? Dario’s born in December right? Christmas isn’t it? How could I forget that?

This is a scene that has been happening all morning and will continue happening all day as we Marines take over the web, the airwaves, and a significant portion of all telephone communications to wish our brothers and sisters a “Happy birthday.”

Yes, this is a scene that is playing out all over America, and all over the world. Two old salty gunnys from Brooklyn are probably sitting in a park today, wearing scarlet and gold jackets, their Marine tattoos wrinkled underneath, and reminiscing on celebrating the Marine Corps’ Birthday in the chilled landscape of Korea.

A World War II Marine is in D.C. today with his wife, shrinking in stature underneath the epic Iwo Jima Memorial, the giant statue commemorating the flag-raising on Mount Suribachi during that famous battle, our national colors flapping in the November breeze. Hand in hand, she’ll kiss him on the cheek and say, “Happy birthday, love.”

Vietnam Marines are at their local VFW hall, motorcycles parked outside, mugs raised, trying not to spill too much beer on their beards as their birthday celebrations continue on.

Younger Marines, veterans of the recent wars, are tweeting their love for their Corps and texting their buddies, “Hey, bro. Thanks for watching my back.”

And a lieutenant in Helmand province, Afghanistan, today is concluding his patrol brief by saying to his platoon, “Let’s make this happen. Happy birthday, Marines.” They’ll lock and load and continue the fight. They’ll carry our honor on this day.

So why do we do this? Why do we celebrate with such fervency the day the Corps was born by an act of the Second Continental Congress? Why does this date linger in our minds?

It’s because of our camaraderie. It’s because of the forged bonds of hardship. It’s because we are not as lean and not as mean, but still Marines. It’s because of that lieutenant and his platoon. We do it for those of us who are no longer here to raise their glasses in celebration, and our friends who will die tomorrow. Maybe we do it because, even at 236-years-old, we’re happy to report that our Corps still lives on, as powerful, professional, and determined to protect freedom as ever.

And we’ll be here until there is no enemy anymore. Just peace.

Semper Fidelis,

Dario “D-Boh” DiBattista

Iraq War Veteran
Corporal, USMCR 2001 – 2007
www.dariodibattista.com



All photos below courtesy of LCpl Michael McMaugh, 1st Marine Division Combat Camera







RIP Gunnery Sergeant Fontecchio (above image)

760. That Kind of Blog

Well, years later from first getting into this whole writing thing, I would hope I'd be past these self-aggrandizing and self-absorbed kind of blog posts; but I do think it's important for a writer to bare their soul from time to time. And there's some things I just need to share tonight. It's not for you as much as it is for myself; but maybe you can relate to my problems, too? Maybe you'll be comforted by me talking about my failures and sadness? (Yes, dear reader, it's that kind of post.) Either way, you've been warned about this blogs' content.

Here we go:

It's a Saturday night, 11:18 pm, I'm all alone. And for the first time in half a decade that really bothers me. I've felt the tinge of a possible depression building up for quite a while now. I feel like it's being exacerbated by the fact I'm 27, almost 28, and no one I want wants to be with me. Rejection's an old hat I wear with comfort, unfortunately. But every now and then -- like every half a decade -- someone new comes along and makes me feel like I'm possibly worth a damn. The kind of woman whose smile becomes my purpose for living. And when she gives it to me, well, shit, it all suddenly makes sense. Damn, Dario. If you can make this angel smile, then you're doing something right, man!

And around these rare women, I feel like all the struggles, all the mistakes, all of my faith in something better, have been paid for and rewarded. But then she pulls away from me -- disinterested, tenuous, afraid of getting too close, and maybe with some other boy. And I feel like the fist of karma has punched me again. How long will I pay for my past actions?

How long until my penance has been paid and I can be happy?

I've struggled forever it seems. Maybe I'm a masochist. Maybe I'm not fated for a positive life. Maybe everything I've built my life around has been a big fucking farce, because I thought my dreams would lead me to a different place.

Sometimes I just wish it was always black. At least then, I'd always know what to expect.

759. End Radio Silence

Somewhere in spring 2010, for the first time, writing wasn't fun for me anymore. I had just invested much of my soul in telling the macabre story of a dedicated female mortician, and suddenly, I didn't have anything left. My friend and mentor Cathy Alter told me the obvious then: "Dario, just take a break if you need it."

So that's where I've been. I've done that twice before. This is my third time. If you're reading this at all, I'm going to guess that you actually do care about my writing career, so I'll keep going...

It's been a tough couple months for me, despite my successes. I've got a couple small pieces coming out in various journals soon, etc., but my goal has always been book publication. Unfortunately, nothing less will ever satisfy me. And it seems -- for reasons I'll never understand -- the more I publish, the more I get exposure in the media, the more I make a name for myself and build up my CV, the farther away that dream becomes, which is mystifying.

I suppose I could blame a million different factors -- the economy, the rapidly changing writer's marketplace, my agent, etc. -- but I do need to absorb most of the blame for not meeting my goal yet. Sometimes that's a spiritual process more than anything. I've got the degree and I've got the tools, but how much longer can I keep doing this? How much longer can I seek success in an industry that by all practical accounts is rapidly shrinking and failing horribly? Am I masochist? Do I really believe in what I have to say?

These are the questions I've been asking myself the past few months. And I guess, in reality, all that matters is the last question.

And I'm happy to answer it with, yes, I do.

Thanks again for reading.

Much love,

Dario
www.dariodibattista.com

758. Monotony

Monotony

Through my headphones, the sticks are clacking
against a metal rim. Above,
the black and white clock tries to measure
a thing which cannot be measured;
and the pull-cords of a fan, tap together
under the apathetic blade spin.
Through the window,
the smoking man’s dog’s tail
wags like a retarded metronome;
patio blinds sway as a perturbed pendulum;
eyes cast glances but nothing gets seen.





All content ©Dario DiBattista 2011. All posts are for display purposes only and not to be considered published.