Lovely Leslie “Donegan” and God’s Treason


Note: This is an archived site. Each piece, each section was written for a particular purpose, a specific audience… for a given moment in time. Without proper context, an article, etc. can be puzzling, off-putting. Perhaps… only read what’s recommended directly to you. WHAT’S BELOW IS UNEDITED This was written primarily for Leslie. Since it has links that enable people to learn about her quickly, easily… I will be sending others here. Like the leaders in Labor who I plan to see next week in Santa Cruz County. And since I’m focused on Labor now and a probable contact date on Monday… I’m gonna take a little MUSICAL BREAK before we get started. Most people don’t know it, but God’s Treason begs for a blending of smooth and silly with the ultra-serious. And on that note I give you what’s below.

Special note: Statements about and by Leslie, as described here, should be taken as untrue. That’s part of the reason I changed the initial title so that “Donegan” replaced Sheridan. Elaboration on all that upon request.

Lovely Leslie “Donegan” and God’s Treason
Dedicated to my obligation to Fats, Etta et al.
by OX

The world stands out on either side
No wider than the heart is wide;
Above the world is stretched the sky,—
No higher than the soul is high.
The heart can push the sea and land
Farther away on either hand;
The soul can split the sky in two,
And let the face of God shine through.
— Edna St. Vincent Millay to the author, 1950

“God is not a Republican or a Democrat!” — from, posted about ten months after emorial-day.html Go ahead, you can play the Peter Paul and Mary clip that Leslie provided last year for Sonoma News Today. Today. Right now. Heartbeats permitting, you can then scroll down to where she gives us a bit of Pete Seeger. Pete, who I met midst stones being thrown at his babies in Peekskill so long ago… long before that “Where Have All the Flowers Gone” was written… on a bloody September, 1949, with Paul Robeson holding hands up to shield himself from the fury of a deeply racist, horribly misguided crowd of patriots, whilst beautiful Eugene Bullard and so many others were mercilessly beaten with local law enforcement joining in the fray. A day to remember for a (not-quite-yet) seven-year-old. [That's me blending myself into Leslie's whole shebang.]

When I spoke to Leslie today for the first time (7/17/10), I told her that we had a lot in common. I didn’t know at the time that — according to — we had both been Badgers! Wow, Bascom Hall, Lake Mendota and all that. Gee. I was thinking at the time about the realms of sales and marketing as per her, and

And I was thinking about how spontaneously she put the foul mouth on a mutual contact within the activist community. I love that about her already. That and the fact that she’s such an incredibly great listener, making the time to listen to my blah blah. That and her authentic soul. Which is all blended in with a lyrical background which comes down courtesy of her roots, her family. She is quite the elevated, authentic soul… rare as flawless chrysolite. [Can't decide whether to nickname her "Magnet" or "Cool Breeze."]

I had only been talking to her a few minutes when I learned that she was in the process of relocating. I immediately offered to help her with that. And I’m very much looking forward to our first in person rendezvous on the 31st of this month to pitch in on that count. Still can’t wait to hear whether or not I’ll be able to meet her earlier at the upcoming Teens Turning Green demo in S.F. on the 20th. I’m rarin’ to go. Chomping at the bit. Blaring forth, and forging ahead of all obligatory first steps and reason.

For I smell healthy treason in the air.

Legal, non-violent treason. [Pause.] Now don’t go haulin’ me off to the hoosegow, torturing me for betrayal and/or allegiance to so-called enemies. No, please. [Pause.] Give me a break. A very well-deserved break. For I am talking about God’s Treason. [Note the use of capitals, if you will.]

MUSICAL BREAK (without getting too far away from Peter Paul and Mary):

In the spirit of Howard Zinn who lovingly, graciously — oh my, God! — gave me his oh-so important imprimatur for TOSCA so many lifetimes ago, in the name of my obligation to Eugene Bullard and Edna… in the name of all that’s decent, all that makes life worth living, I — we — will end the wars on this planet in my lifetime. With the same kind of urgency that we embrace to address the Ecocide and all its ugly first cousins plaguing the planet and Mother Earth herself.

We will stop our horrid momentum in its tracks.

Perhaps TOSCA2014 will have to replace TOSCA2010 at this late date. Maybe that whole kit and kaboodle will be replaced by something else entirely. I don’t know. I don’t care what the something is that drags us all out of our little corners, but I do not want to proceed at an arthritic snail’s pace on the road to… nowhere. No how. No way. No longer. [Keep in mind, if you will, that I penned that piece about "little corners" for a Very Black Oakland Crowd; the thrust of what we must, however, is embedded there loud and clear for one and all, I believe. Some of the most heart wrenching rejection I have ever experienced took place recently in and around the Black Community in L.A. and Oakland, and one of the many things that motivate me is my desire to find out what the hell is going on with that realm not embracing me full force. Before I die.]

When it comes to (talking about) creating a watershed in history as per God’s Treason, people — inevitably — want to know HOW I see being able to pull that off. That’s if they listen long enough, if they’re capable of caring at this juncture, resignation, apathy, self-serving cynicism, ignorance compounding ignorance and/or atomization getting in the way. Almost inevitably they do, ‘cross the board.

I LOVE TO ANSWER THAT. But people almost never put the requisite heartbeats aside to make elaboration possible, to enable deep dialogue with full-on Q&A to kick in. And so the whole shebang is put to death courtesy of Sound Bite Parameters. There’s a lot of Ostrich Syndrome operating these days too.

But whether or not “Ecstatic Politics” is employed in the electoral arena, or something else is tested outside of that fraudulent realm, concerned citizens need to get with some macroscopic plan in solidarity which follows a new paradigm. Something done together that’s fresh on a large scale. Yesterday! Whether or not they have time. Regardless of how under the thumb or under the weather they are. I mean, c’mon, I’m not asking for any money. NONE. And at one end of the spectrum people can be on board by simply registering to vote and voting and spreading word proactively as they go through their daily routine rounds. [I count that as taking all of about AN HOUR of their heartbeats OVER THE NEXT FOUR YEARS if we're talkin' 'bout TOSCA 2014.]

MUSICAL BREAK: Ideally, I’d like to know what videos at the “Ecstatic Politics” link, if any, resonated with readers. For only the visceral can eviscerate the ensconced powers.

In closing, I’d like return to my past again. [Pause.] To Hull. Where (so-called cynic) Phillip Larkin pulled me out of a huge lull in my life with uplifting lines designed to keep people from being sheep about what’s possible:

Lambs that learn to walk in snow
When their bleating clouds the air
Meet a vast unwelcome, know
Nothing but a sunless glare.
Newly stumbling to and fro
All they find, outside the fold,
Is a wretched width of cold.

As they wait beside the ewe,
Her fleeces wetly caked, there lies
Hidden round them, waiting too,
Earth’s immeasureable surprise.
They could not grasp it if they knew,
What so soon will wake and grow
Utterly unlike the snow.

I am one of the few people on earth who has had authentic poets recite their work one-on-one, knowing that they were saving someone’s life. Larkin’s First Sight was my Amazing Grace. [What better point to end on than a note you don't expect?]

I have an obligation, and so I turn to Leslie Sheridan now, and God’s Unreasonable Treason.

Blessings in solidarity

831-688-8038 at any hour (at any hour being a “key” of sorts here)

And for those who are cold in the face of God, I give you the secular brilliance of Peter Weiss:

“Against Nature’s silence I use action
In the vast indifference I invent a meaning
I don’t watch unmoved I intervene
and say that this and this are wrong
and I work to alter them and improve them
The important thing
is to pull yourself up by your own hair
to turn yourself inside out
and see the whole world with fresh eyes.”

— Marat, act 1, scene 12 of Marat/Sade