Voting For Sociopaths
Posted: November 17, 2025 Filed under: Commentary, Mind Fields | Tags: consciousness, meditation, Mental Health, mindfulness, spirituality 1 Comment
If you vote for a sociopath to serve in public office, you may be acting from your own sociopathic tendencies. Americans have succumbed to a sociopathic culture that is sad and shocking. It isn’t wealth or poverty that counts in the USA. It’s numbness to the suffering of others. It is disturbing that numbness has spread itself wide, that apathy has replaced interest in public discourse. The awful fact is that people are dead inside.
How do I know this? I know it from personal experience. I was also dead inside. Now, I have a bit of life within myself. I continue to fight this social and spiritual desolation. I am less dead than in the past. I use every tool I can grasp: therapy, meetings with a group, reading about psychology, learning about Consciousness itself.
Growing up in a typically dysfunctional family has left me reeling with emotional pain and often engaged in struggles with addiction and other debilitating conditions. I didn’t want this! I wanted to live free and happy, but that is neither possible nor even desirable. I have learned patience and the ability to frame my narratives of pain in terms that show their creative importance.
As far as I know, I was not “sent here” by anyone other then another faculty of my very core SELF. We need to understand that possession of a Self is a very high privilege, a vital connection between what is human and what is not of this world, but of some inner possibility. Selfness is a condition of consciousness, a unique and important faculty of identity. It isn’t random, it doesn’t come from nowhere. It comes from within the mind and the fact that there IS a mind at all is crucial.
Why? Why have a mind? Of what evolutionary use is a mind? All creatures have minds and some of them may be highly organized and developed. We have no idea what goes on in the mind of an animal like a whale or an elephant. It seems clear from observation that they are not automata. Nor are they entirely conditioned by nature. There is something else, something beyond our grasp, about the minds of other species. We are desperately uninformed. At best, we are guessing, by way of zoologists, veterinarians, communicators and empaths.
What if a blue whale knows about the cosmos in an entirely different way? What if its brain produces some profound psychedelic that eludes human beings? In its own way, as it sounds the depths, it may be swimming among the stars. Is there not an inner life within the life we see? Should not a bear possess an inner life? Does not its memory belong to the universe?
About Arthur Rosch
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
___________________________________
Did you know you can sponsor your favorite blog series or even a single post with an advertisement for your book? Stop by the WtbR Sponsor Page and let me advertise your book or your site, or you can make a donation to Writing to be Read for as little as a cup of coffee, If you’d like to show your support for this author and WordCrafter Press.
___________________________________
This segment of “Mind Fields” is sponsored by the Roberta Writes blog site, where you can find the poetry, photos, videos, and book reviews by Robbie Cheadle and so much more.
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Mind Fields: When Nothing Makes Sense
Posted: October 17, 2025 Filed under: Commentary, Mind Fields, The Human Condition | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Commentary, Human Condition, Mind Fields, Writing to be Read 3 CommentsMuch of our personal sanity depends on our ability to form a narrative that describes our life in a coherent and stable way. Without that….we’re crazy! And perhaps its necessary to be crazy some of the time, to let the choo choo run off it’s tracks. The main reason craziness is so important is that it often breeds originality.
Here is the question: Is there a Power, a Force, an entity that is either within my body or external to it that “takes care” of me in matters of spiritual and emotional progress? I would like to believe that there is, but I must first be aware that wishful thinking plays a huge part in any such inquiry.
My life experiences seem to demonstrate that there is some sort of “path” which can appear if one makes a commitment to the walking of the path. Who or what supervises the traveling of this path? Is it ME, myself, or is it something that is both of and alien to my personal guise?
I suspect that the only answer to such a question must be found somewhere in my mind or consciousness but that would be a cop out. There apparently is no answer available on the human realm. My inclination is to BELIEVE that such a force does exist. Essentially the question resolves to this: is there a god? I’m a sort of pagan pantheist; I believe that not only is there a god, but there are gods by the millions; beings who live on another plane of life. We can only access this plane via disciplines or sheer grace. They are HERE, but we can’t see them.
About Arthur Rosch
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
___________________________
Did you know you can sponsor your favorite blog series or even a single post with an advertisement for your book? Stop by the WtbR Sponsor Page and let me advertise your book, or you can make a donation to Writing to be Read for as little as a cup of coffee, If you’d like to show your support for this author and WordCrafter Press.
____________________________
This segment of “Mind Fields” is sponsored by the Roberta Writes blog site, where you can find the poetry, photos, videos, and book reviews by Robbie Cheadle and so much more.
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Everyone is Critic: “The Faculty”
Posted: October 13, 2025 Filed under: Commentary, Horror, Movie Review, Movies, Review | Tags: Everyone is a Critic, horror, Movie Review, The Faculty, Writing to be Read 2 Comments
The Faculty is a 1998 science fiction/horror movie which I somehow missed until now. Reminiscent of horror classic, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, the faculty and most of the student body at Herrington High School are being taken over by aliens, and it’s nearly impossible to tell who is still human. One group of industrious, survival-minded students has figured out what is happening, how to detect the aliens, and how to destroy them. Now they just have to find the head alien and destroy it before the whole school, and then the town, is taken over.
Although, not an original plot, it is fashioned after a classic. At least the aliens didn’t scream at each other whenever a human was detected. When the queen alien is revealed, I have to say I saw it coming, but they placed enough red herrings, so that I couldn’t be one hundred percent certain until the truth is unveiled.
The special effects seem a bit primitive in this dawning age of technology, but for 1998, they’ve got a pretty cool queen alien monster. While some things, such as the method of beating the aliens, seemed a bit too convenient, horror movies, in general, are pretty formulaic, so perhaps that’s to be expected. At any rate, it held my attention, and I had to see how things turned out, which is basically the point, right?
The Faculty is everything a horror movie should be, using the aliens to keep our heroes boxed in, misdirection to keep viewers guessing, and plenty of tension to keep our attention. What more could you want from a horror movie?
About Kaye Lynne Booth
For Kaye Lynne Booth, writing is a passion. Kaye Lynne is an author with published short fiction and poetry, both online and in print, including her short story collection, Last Call and Other Short Fiction; and her paranormal mystery novella, Hidden Secrets; Books 1 & 2 of her Women in the West adventure series, Delilah and Sarah, and book 1 in her Time-Travel Adventure series, The Rock Star & The Outlaw, as well as her poetry collection, Small Wonders and The D.I.Y. Author writing resource.
Kaye holds a dual M.F.A. degree in Creative Writing with emphasis in genre fiction and screenwriting, and an M.A. in publishing. Kaye Lynne is the founder of WordCrafter Quality Writing & Author Services and WordCrafter Press, where she edits and publishes two short fiction anthologies and one poetry anthology every year amidst her many writing projects. She also maintains an authors’ blog and website, Writing to be Read, where she publishes content of interest in the literary world.
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Did you know you can sponsor your favorite blog series or even a single post with an advertisement for your book? Stop by the WtbR Sponsor Page and let me advertise your book, or you can make a donation to Writing to be Read for as little as a cup of coffee, If you’d like to show your support for this author and WordCrafter Press.
________________________________________
This segment of “Everyone is a Critic” is sponsored by the Time Travel Adventure Series and WordCrafter Press.
When a Girl with a Guitar Meets a Man with a Gun, It’s Time to Travel
The Rock Star & The Outlaw: https://www.amazon.com/Rock-Star-Outlaw-Time-Travel-Adventure-ebook/dp/B0CJBRRCN1/
The Rock Star & The Outlaw 2: Seeing Doubles: Coming in 2026
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Mind Fields: An Insight In Sight
Posted: September 15, 2025 Filed under: Commentary, Mind Fields, The Human Condition | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Commentary, Human Condition, Mind Fields, Writing to be Read 2 CommentsConsciousness is a word that describes the phenomenon of processing information so that it turns into experience. Experience is the next phase of consciousness. It feeds back the enhancements it has acquired to its original source in Consciousness.
The human brain is not the seat or source of Consciousness. It’s a tool in the workshops of awareness. It’s complexity may in fact be some kind of microcosmic expression of a macrosmic purpose. Neurons touch stars; this is quantum reality, where everything is interconnected. The source of Consciousness is simply everywhere.
About Arthur Rosch
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
_________________________
Did you know you can sponsor your favorite blog series or even a single post with an advertisement for your book? Stop by the WtbR Sponsor Page and let me advertise your book, or you can make a donation to Writing to be Read for as little as a cup of coffee, If you’d like to show your support for this author and WordCrafter Press.
__________________________
This segment of “Mind Fields” is sponsored by the Roberta Writes blog site, where you can find the poetry, photos, videos, and book reviews by Robbie Cheadle and so much more.
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Mind Fields: My Eating Disorders
Posted: June 23, 2025 Filed under: Commentary, essays, Mind Fields | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Eating Disorders, Mental Health, Mind Fields, Writing to be Read Leave a commentKeeping The Faith (While Completely Fucked Up)
Arthur Rosch
January 22, 2021, The Year Of The Great Fungus
I have a conceit, i.e. that I should hold the title as “The World’s Most Fucked Up Person”. The only problem is that all of you would also like to hold this same title. Don’t try to con me. I know what you think. The only reason I know what you think is that it’s the same thing that I think.
Or. I used to think. When I recognized that each of us claims this title as the most neurotic person on Earth, I began to have more confidence in myself. Surely, I reasoned, if I am exactly the same amount of fucked up as everyone else, then I must belong to this Family of Man. I’m human. And we all know that there is great dignity to being human. We are builders of pyramids, makers of satellites and space ships.
I have a very weird relationship with food. The first time I grasped that I was deeply crazy was when I began to eat huge amounts of food. I indulged especially in sweets. If I were to make a pie chart of my life (and refrain from eating it), I’m sure it would show huge chunks of time in the bulimia/anorexia’ zone. The worst of my food disorders followed me through adolescence; years seventeen through twenty two. I was out in the world, trying to maneuver by being on or near college campuses.
I had a sneaky way of being anorexic. I deluded myself into thinking that this was a spiritual discipline. I was drawn to exotic food disciplines, like Macrobiotics. It would get me high, exalt me spiritually. By eating small portions of brown rice and onions, chickpeas in barley, I was the paragon of yogic discipline. This was who I wanted myself to be. I got skinny. I weighed 125. On top of this I was taking LSD and smoking weed. I was deep into my purpose, my destiny of becoming a musician of salvation and a figure of reverence. The things that young people think: oh my god!
Then I came to a breaking point. After a year of Macrobiotics I had such a craving for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that I bought the ingredients and took them back to my hidey hole. “What are you doing?” I asked myself. “This is a self betrayal, this is the opposite of Macrobiotic food. You asshole, what a failure you are!” So I ate it. Then I ate something else sweet and gooey. Then I couldn’t stop eating every kind of junk food on the planet. I had been like a spring ready to snap. Boing!
I was so ashamed of myself. This was 1967, before eating disorders had been invented. I was a pioneer. My bulimia wasn’t the pukey kind. It was the Exercise Freakishly type of bulimia, the one where on alternate days I would purge with sweat and effort, then follow with a day of relentless eating: an entire apple pie, backed up by a half gallon of ice cream. After that came the cookies, and so forth. One day exercising. One day binge eating. Back and forth, one followed the other, for more than a year. I looked for help. I went to the college shrink. He said, “I don’t know what’s happening to you and I can’t help you. Besides, you’re not even enrolled as a student at this college”
I lost weight during this time. My waist was a twenty nine or thirty. I was living in a vacant student’s quarter, avoiding the security guys and bedding down with a pad and sleeping bag. I got money from my dad. I worked as a stable boy at a local horse ranch. A stable boy.
I had my drums stashed at the university’s music building in a practice room. I practiced there for hours every day, getting high by all means and experimenting with the limits of my technique. That was the point of not going to college. I let my dad pay for semesters at Western Reserve or Wayne State and then I would slip down to Yellow Springs from Cleveland and hang out with people who talked to trees. I would practice all the time, working through the famous “Stick Control” book and listening to Coltrane records.
This was a pleasant period that lasted about a year. I think that I’m conflating two different periods of time. It doesn’t matter. That’s the way memory works when it sort of fails to work. I think there’s a memory bank in the brain and it gets filled up and needs to be purged once in a while. It’s all just story anyway. Life truly is fiction, it has to be. I just want a subject to write about and my life has been so bizarre that it qualifies as the stuff of novels. That poor guy (that is, myself) didn’t know what lay ahead. He thought that if he took enough acid, did yoga, ate rice and played the drums then he would launch himself into nirvana. It’s not a bad plan, really. The problem was that I was fractured psychologically, harboring behaviors that would shame me again and again.
These were adolescent ordeals, but they were precursors to my future. In 1967 my eighteen year old self dreamed of cosmic unity while the biggest thing that lay ahead of me was heroin addiction. I interrogated my psyche by reading about psychology. After that came years of therapy. I was determined to save myself.
It took a long time, but none of it can be repudiated. It’s lucky I’m still alive and well.
I’m still slightly food disordered. I control, compensate, manage. Mostly I exercise.
I get a lot of exercise.
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About Arthur Rosch
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
___________________________________
Did you know you can sponsor your favorite blog series or even a single post with an advertisement for your book? Stop by the WtbR Sponsor Page and let me advertise your book, or you can make a donation to Writing to be Read for as little as a cup of coffee, If you’d like to show your support for this author and WordCrafter Press.
____________________________________
This segment of “Mind Fields” is sponsored by the Roberta Writes blog site, where you can find the poetry, photos, videos, and book reviews by Robbie Cheadle and so much more.
Share this:
Mind Fields: An Insight Changed My Behavior
Posted: September 27, 2024 Filed under: Commentary, essays, Mind Fields, Relationships, Self-Discovery | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Mind Fields, Relationships, Relection, Self-Discovery, Writing to be Read 1 CommentIt began with an insight. I discovered a huge bank of fantasy within myself: fantasy about women, about meeting THE woman, a mythical anima character whom I summoned with all of my available emotions. I had been holding on to this fantasy for decades. It was the default position of my libido and my romantic longings. “Some day I’ll meet her,” I thought; and I thought and I thought, again and again this vision conquered me. There was nothing I could do but continue hoping. Never mind that I had a long standing partner. That relationship wasn’t meeting what I perceived as my “needs”.
Then, an understanding came: you’re seventy six years old, I told myself. Maybe you’re never going to meet her. Use your future wisely. Maybe your needs aren’t so important as you think.
When I let that thought come into focus, I felt as if a huge bag of cement was pouring from my chest. As it descended into nowhere. I felt grief and sadness, a truly visceral chest-hugging loss. I had depended upon that thought structure to keep me going; it was a motivator. It caused me to flirt endlessly, if futilely, and to keep my gaze swiveling from one woman to the next. I didn’t know how to behave without this internal force, without this lodestar of romantic dreaming.
Okay. Life. Without that fantasy. Whoosh! Begin the emotional tornado.
I have a partner. I’ve been with her for twenty five years. She’s quite disabled, but we do well together. There’s no erotic energy between us. I miss it, but she’s way more important than Eros. We help one another age and survive. I find great justice in the fact that I am a caregiver. In my earlier life I couldn’t even take care of myself. That situation left me homeless, alone and completely isolated.
I’m exploring aspects of my nature that I haven’t understood. It’s strange to encounter parts of myself that remain immature. “Really?” I ask myself. “You’re still thinking that, still DOING that?” It’s easy to hear the formula: grow up! It’s another thing to actually GROW UP and change one’s self. It’s difficult and it has taken guts I didn’t know I had.
Of course, my partner will always let me know when I fuck up.
I still doubt my courage and I pray for more.
I could say that it’s about Change, but It’s really about Connection and my desire to love and be loved more intimately, to forge deeper bonds with the people in my life. I don’t know how much time I have with these people. I don’t know if I can achieve that love with anyone, but I’m starting with myself. If I have any bits of character strength in my nature, they have been acquired through a lot of effort. I’m proud of that effort, proud of that achievement. I am also capable of viewing myself with contempt. There have been times when I have completely fallen apart. I have learned gto live in reasonable balance with my self-destructiveness. I think it takes this kind of polarity to make a rounded person. In other words, if you knew half the shit that goes on inside me, you’d run. But then you would come back and ask me to tell a story.
I admit to living deep inside my narcissistic enclosure. I can’t get out of my own way. At least I know that about myself.
My emotional palette has expanded so that I am feeling new things that I had not previously dreamed of feeling. My former therapist would be ecstatic, as this seems to be a culmination of much of the work we did together. Almost all of this is love-feeling coming through my soul in many textures and colors. It is something like the docking of an immense ocean liner that carries feelings as its cargo. As an artist these feelings resonate so deeply inside me that I am moved into a new sphere of art; music, words, visions, images. My inner life has lit up like a cosmic dawn.
I am immensely grateful for the gift of humanity, empathy and self-knowledge.
I have faith (and that’s what it is. I don’t Know anything) in a Higher Intelligence. I feel a resonance with Sufi poets like Rumi and Kabir and musical mystics like John Coltrane. I am a person who prays. I pray almost constantly. It’s as if I have a God-Hatch in my head and it’s always emitting fiery sparks like a volcano.
I am aware of a human tendency towards self-delusion. Since I am a human being, I, too, am capable of fooling myself in ridiculous style. I hope to free myself from such errors in this life or the next, or the one after that. Or…maybe the one after that. Everything comes in its time. My spirit sits like a melon on the kitchen table, slowly ripening until its moment of maximum sweetness.
Postscript:
One of the most significant changes has been in the diminution of my personal compulsiveness. I’ve long known myself to be a compulsive or addictive personality. I endured severe food compulsions in my teen years and have long struggled with both bulimia and anorexia. In late life this morphed into bed time snacking that could get out of hand. It is with a degree of amazement that I find myself not interested in such activity. I don’t even have the munchies when I’m stoned. My body is changing along with the interior shifting of my thought processes. My tummy fat is disappearing. I’m not unhappy about this. It feeds my vanity, of which I am a proud owner of significant “amor propre” or self regard.
I am amazed. This is healing. I know the source of my addictions to be underlying depression, despair, loneliness and confusion. I’ve been working at THAT my whole life.
I seem to be getting somewhere. It’s about fucking time.
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About the Author
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
____________________________________________
This segment of “Mind Fields” is sponsored by the Roberta Writes blog site, where you can find the poetry, photos, videos, and book reviews by Robbie Cheadle and so much more.
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Mind Fields: Bloodbath
Posted: August 30, 2024 Filed under: Commentary, essays, Mind Fields, Writing to be Read | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Commentary, Mind Fields, Writing to be Read Leave a comment
Bloodbath
This century will be a bloodbath.
Our planet is stressed beyond endurance.
The Earth is intelligent. The universe knows what we are, even when we don’t know. Given the power of this Intelligence, I trust it to decide the fate of many nations. Too many people live on this planet, choking it with the ash of man made volcanoes. Our fate approaches; it will be dark before its transformation. Billions will die in the next century.
Earthquake, flood, all kinds of disasters are already triggered by the greed of industry and the complacent raping of forests and farms. I am afraid. I’m not afraid for myself. I’m old, I’ve lived my life. What about my kids, my grandkids? They will suffer and adapt. I hope this is so.
As the Great Dying unravels across the planet, conditions will change quickly. Already the pace of change makes me dizzy. I feel the misery of the Turkish earthquake, the misery of hapless Syrians who did nothing but oppose a tyrant and lost their rebellion. People die all the time. People die in huge numbers once a while. Wars cause death on massive scales. We are seeing these wars arise from the minds of ignorant men who think they can dominate by force. The bloodbath is upon us and it will only intensify in the coming years.
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About Arthur Rosch
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
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This segment of “Mind Fields” is sponsored by the Roberta Writes blog site, where you can find the poetry, photos, videos, and book reviews by Robbie Cheadle and so much more.
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Undawntech: Emergence of the Engineered Reaction
Posted: February 2, 2024 Filed under: Commentary, Technolgy, Undawntech, Writing Technology | Tags: AI Technology, technology, Undawntech, Writing Technology, Writing to be Read 3 Comments
Like any other right we exercise, technology is no different. Our right to do something is balanced by our innate responsibility. Meaning: just because you can do something, should you do it? What are the ramifications? What is the legal perspective?
In recent weeks, technology has been used in an unscrupulous fashion. From images to videos, prominent figures in society are being defamed for clickbait. Clickbait is emotional advertisements that invoke a strong reaction like anger, hate, surprise, shock, and even curiosity. If you feel impassioned by a headline and its imagery, then it is best to steer clear of that link. This manipulation is milking the public for money without adding anything positive to culture.
Let’s say that you are an actor or musician in the public eye. Your identity is your source of notoriety and income. The public buys your products because they enjoy your style, image, and music or movies. The actor or musician also has contracts with production companies, record labels, agents, and others in their industry that bank on that specific style, image, and product. Many contracts have legal clauses, which prohibit any deviation from the artist’s public persona, as well as morality terms. A public figure has a vested interest in keeping the status quo.
If someone creates an Artificial Intelligence (A.I.) image of an inappropriate nature, then the creator of said image has defamed you. Imagine that you are a young, female popstar with an innocent, wholesome image, but someone creates an A.I. representation of you as a blood-soaked, slut, then the generator of said image has defamed you as an artist. The same goes with male actors, who are purported to say or do something on video that is not them.
The term “defamation” means any action or other proceeding for defamation, libel, slander, or similar claim alleging that forms of speech are false, have caused damage to reputation or emotional distress, have presented any person in a false light, or have resulted in criticism, dishonor, or condemnation of any person.
www.law.cornell.edu/uscode/text/28/4101
The First Amendment protects speech and freedom of expression, but not defamation, be it libel or slander. A public figure owns their appearance and likeness, public image, and other copyright and trademark rights. The First Amendment states:
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.
www.law.cornell.edu/constitution/first_amendment
If you would like to state unfavorable political, religious, social, or other views, then your right to say or write them is protected speech. Hate speech, which this fascistic phrase is not a legal term, is covered by the Bill of Rights. The right to speak, even to be silent (Miranda Rights), are both covered by the First Amendment. Comedy, as well as parody (Spaceballs) and criticism of another’s works (Book & Movie Reviews), are preserved as a right.
Nevertheless, the First Amendment does not cover every facet of speech or expression. For instance, freedom of speech does not grant someone the right to shout fire in a crowded theater, or threaten the health and safety of other people (fighting words). Pornographic materials created with minors is unprotected speech and expression (child pornography). Reckless disregard for facts and truth about a public figure is considered defamation (malice). Other actions unshielded by the First Amendment include: obscenity, perjury, blackmail, incitement (to be lawless), solicitation (to commit a crime), fraud, and plagiarism.
www.britannica.com/topic/First-Amendment/Permissible-restrictions-on-expression
In the age of technology, users must understand and navigate the legal framework of their rights, including speech and expression. What does the creative community do in an ever-changing landscape of expressive and innovative technology? First, read the law. Next, research case law. Both of these legal avenues will help creators create with peace of mind.
Copyright in the United States as a general rule is the death of the artist, actor, musician, et al., plus seventy years. If you would like to delve into the entirety of the law, visit the U.S. Copyright Office: www.copyright.gov/title17.
Besides laws to govern new technology, the best way to balance rights and responsibilities is to ask yourself: would I like someone doing that to me, my works, or my copyright/trademark? If the answer is no, then you have found the legal threshold.
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DL Mullan holds a Master of Arts in Teaching and Learning with Technology.
Her lecture, Spacescapes: Where Photography Ends; Imagination Begins, debuted at the Phoenix Astronomy Society, which then led to her Sally Ride Festival lecture invitations. Her presentation, Bridging the Gap between Technology and Women, won her accolades at a community college’s Student Success Conference. She has been a panelist at speculative fiction, science fiction, and other regional conventions. Her digital exhibition pieces have won awards at convention art shows, as well as garnered her Second Premium at the Arizona State Fair. Currently, Ms. Mullan’s artistic renditions are seen on book covers, blog sites, video presentations, and various merchandise. As an independent publisher, she uses her technical background to innovate the creative arts.
As a writer, DL Mullan loves to stretch her imagination and the elasticity of genres. She writes complex multi-genre stories in digestible and entertaining forms, be it poetry, short fiction, or novels. Her science, history, mythology, and paranormal research backgrounds are woven into her writings, especially in Undawnted’s Legacy Universe. Ms. Mullan’s creative endeavors are available in digital and print collections, from academia to commercial anthologies. She is also an award-winning poet.
Be sure to subscribe to her newsletters and follow her on social media. For further information, visit her at www.undawnted.com and www.undawntech.top.
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Mind Fields: Two Poems Addressing The World’s Violence
Posted: November 29, 2023 Filed under: Commentary, Mind Fields, Poetry | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Isreal PalestineConflict, Mind Fields, Poetry, Psychotherapy, Response to Terrorism, Violence Prevention, Writing to be Read 2 CommentsUntitiled
There is no excuse for the agony of the world.
There is no excuse for a single person to be starving.
No excuse for anyone to be without a safe home.
No excuse for children to be frightened of invisible menace.
No excuse, no excuse, no excuse.
Anyone who tells you this killing, this maiming,
this bombing is justified,
is revealing a criminal lack of imagination.
There is no excuse to be without a creative idea,
a new way to solve a problem,
no excuse, no excuse.
To be mired in the endless slavery
of historical cause and effect
is no excuse.
To be defending one’s self from oppression
is no excuse.
To be reacting to outside danger
is no excuse.
There is never an excuse
to use violence, not even to prevent greater violence.
Using violence always causes greater violence.
No excuse for the weakness of force,
no justification for violence.
We had to stop Hitler, we have to stop Bin Laden,
is that an excuse? No. Is that an explanation?
Perhaps. Must I live with this explanation?
Evidently.
Must I treat it as a rational solution to any brutality?
Never. There is no excuse.
What can I do about this insoluble problem?
I don’t know. Write poems?
Do you have any better ideas?
If you do, and it is not an excuse
for adding agony to the world,
please, please, tell me, tell everyone
right now.
Letter From The Afterlife Of A Terrorist Bomber
I thought I would be in Paradise
but I am in unspeakable hell.
The fire, the fire!
I thought it would only burn for a second,
but it keeps burning!
I thought I would lose consciousness
and wake up in heaven,
but I am stuck now for an eternity
in agony!
The screams of the innocent dying
are like poisoned darts,
lancing the exposed nerves of my inmost soul.
The tears of the bereaved in their hundreds and thousands
rain upon me like acid.
And the worst hell of all is my regret,
my infinite regret,
that I was so stupid, so gullible, so callous,
so easily swayed by insipid argument,
so readily moved to escape my living depression
by casting it upon others.
The fire, the fire! The rocket fuel
sears me for ten thousand years!
The screams and the grief that blame me, rightly,
crush me under a million tons of leaden metal and concrete!
Allah, Allah, I was not merciful, I was not compassionate,
and now when I call to you I see the grit of your robe
as you turn away from me.
I thought I would awake in Paradise.
What a dreadful dreadful mistake!
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Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
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Mind Fields: On Being Complete
Posted: January 30, 2026 | Author: artrosch | Filed under: Commentary, Mind Fields | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Commentary, Mind Fields, Writing to be Read | 4 CommentsI’ve lived in the world of my sexual fantasies for my entire adult life. This is normal reality for people young enough to still own a libido. As the years pass there have been physiological changes to my body. Libido is less intrusive, less commanding, and this comes as something of a relief after so many years of panting after sexually appealing humans. I’m seventy five years old. I’ve had enough sex in my life. Men born in the forties and fifties grew up entitled, so they thought, to all the sex they could get. Things have changed and sex is no longer a perk of the boomer male. Sex is more complex because we became aware (some of us) of the fact that women have been abused and treated with utter cruelty, apparently forever. There is no style of feminism that comes close to redressing that injustice. My fantasies pulled me away from my partner. We are the same age. She doesn’t’ conform to the image. She’s a granma. Of what sexual use is she? I’ve deleted post-menopausal women from my sex fantasy life. At least, that is, I’ve deleted her. She doesn’t want it.
SO….I’ve come to a decision to put away the fantasy. I don’t need it any more. This issue, the transition OUT of sexuality, is difficult. . I ‘ve been slow to release it and give it to the process of my emotional maturation. There is an evolution to such feelings. This inner transformation takes time and help from our therapists and peers. It’s been something of a wild ride for me but things are settling down. I’m revising my identity. I am an elder. I have been motivated by a sense of my having new tools at my disposal and new insights. I have a relationship right now that contains nothing of my fantasy elements. The relationship has problems. We’ve sailed along together and now as we get old we engage in our personal ways of aging. I’m good at self-care. Fox isn’t. We have unconscious areas of bitter conflict. I hope that Fox can recognize in herself this bitterness. My own shadow sits and watches. He doesn’t speak. He’s just there. A rage in a boiling rock.
I had burdened myself with a fantasy of falling in love with someone other than my partner. The fantasy of falling in love is powerful. It can be all enveloping, overwhelming. Its allure is its intoxication with a sensual element. Being in love is one of the most intense forms of pleasure that we will ever experience. Everyone wants those feelings of love: until they have them. Then, it is often a case of getting what you wished for and discovering its unintended consequences. A new vulnerability exists, and a new responsibility. Falling in love brings the possibility of confusion and devastating betrayal. Knowing this from personal experience leads me to a simple formula: one cannot make someone else happy. Don’t look for love to complete you. Be complete. It sounds so simple. It isn’t; but completion comes at the right time, when one has prepared the way for being complete. Or so I hope.
About Arthur Rosch
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
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This segment of “Mind Fields” is sponsored by the Roberta Writes blog site, where you can find the poetry, photos, videos, and book reviews by Robbie Cheadle and so much more.
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