[Besides being a true friend and an incredible person, I believe Chris Thrush to be true voice of our time.  A devout Buddhist, and a punk, his storytelling and narratives bring you in with a hand around your throat and leave you feeling and understanding things like never before.  Like a modern Bukowski, he presents some grim thoughts along with a clear vision of reality; the good and the bad, the sick and dark underbelly of human behavior and thought along with the light of the soul, the flowers that mark the deliniation between the grass and the curb.  Pay attention. - TAIC]

 

ARTICLES/Posts:

Wrote this on a public board to advertise my business....

Pluto

Your Buddhist thought for the day.

A prayer to the small gods of conspicuous consumption.

Old Ghosts...

My Dog

News Feed

Cutest Ones

Heroes

Present Moment Awareness

Hell

9/11

Mac'n'Cheese

Hilarious article to follow.

Shoulda stayed in New Jersey.

Specism

Consider Yisrael Kristal....

You die in the end.

Questions

Independence

Baby Food

Only I will remain...

They are angry...

Sympathetic.

F.E.F.U.D.

Burn One Down.

Forty-Seven.

Pulse.

15 Practical Ways To Find Your Zen At Work

This week in the news.

Jesus.

Graffiti.

Another notion on Memorial Day...

On the notion of Memorial Day...

Inconvenience.

Friends.

What am I now?

Forward.

Silver Rosary.

Chris Cornell.

Candy.

Nemesis.

Can't shake it...

Get to work...

Cinco de Mayo.

Liberation.

Reality.

Note to self...

Worn Down.

Breathe.

102nd Anniversary.

Sepuku.

Richard Dadd.

A brief look at the news...

Thoughts of a man stuck between this and that...

Drunk.

Bob.

Gold.

National Siblings Day.

The Nice One.

Cereal.

Can't Fix.

Amir.

Twins.

Mission Accomplished.

Two Nightmares.

Special Nightmares.

Duchess.

Twisted and Broken.

Self Pity.

Time Well Spent.

John.

212 Degrees.

The Battle Awaits.

Six Years Ago.

Holiday Dinner.

Good Advice.

On the nature of the universe...

Immigration.

Monster Truck Rally.

Love.

Libertarian military future crap.

Happy New Year.

 

 

Wrote this on a public board to advertise my business....

What's important to me is to be able to help. Many of my customers can not afford a plumber or an electrician and so they suffer with the lack of working outlets or a leaking faucet. Believe it or not, money is not the center of my universe. I am very fortunate in life, my rent is cheap and my expenses are low. If I can spend ten or fifteen minutes on a job and make someone's life better, that feels better to me than charging my sixty dollar minimum. I have a very small service area and my staff consists of an autistic kid who loves solving problems and a black chihuahua that pretty much hates eveyone. Low overhead, low prices. I do charge money, but on the other hand I give to those with less than me and I am ok with making a life long customer by doing a small thing for nothing.

I want to leave this planet knowing I did some good for someone in need. Every minute of our tiny fragile lives brings the possibility of death. We are nothing special to the universe, and life is short. If I get killed driving down Kirkwood by a dump truck I can be 100% sure that I was leaving that job with a clean conscience and a glad heart.

Sometimes it doesn't work out. Sometimes I am incompatible with the customer, or the stress level scares me and the boy. Sometimes it is just too hot out to paint and I have to reschedule. Either way I walk away knowing I was honest, straight with them and did not accept their money, even though I fixed their toilet.

I had to fix a job that I was already paid for up in the canyon. It was embarrassing but it got fixed, the fellow offered me 150.00 because it took half a day but I couldn't take it from him. It's not that I didn't want the money, but I had to know I had "done right" by him. When I called for the follow up, which I always do, he told me his wife was diagnosed with cervical cancer. In the end I felt like I gave 150.00 towards her treatment.

I recently had a customer start yelling at me before I started the job. I left right there and they called me every name in the book. I felt guilty I was unable to help them. Frankly there is nothing about sixty bucks that makes that worth it. I would have to say 8 out of 10 people I meet, I help. There are those I can't and it is too difficult for me to try. I have my own emotional defects and I will feel worse for trying than just walking away.

Anyone of my customers can call me when water is shooting out of the wall, or there is no power to the house. Once they are in my customer database I will answer the phone, no matter the hour. That's how I want to finish my life, not rich but happy.

 

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Pluto

Consider this,.. it's an actual photograph of Pluto. It's been color corrected and enhanced of course. Because the original is rather orange. No light reaches it from the sun that is really useable. What little light does reach it only happens a few times a decade. Lowell, the modern god of astronomy detected it in 1902. Not with an optical telescope, because that would be impossible but by its disturbance of gravity of our other planets. Being one of the last objects in our solar system it's orbit around the sun is huge. Taking the better part of sixty years to make its full revolution. It's orbit also takes it closer to mercury for a scant ten years than we are. It is in this period that we first got a look at it. In 1955 they built the mount Wilson observatory and discovered that it was worthless because of Los Angeles ever growing light pollution. Despite that blunder it happened to be finished during that close pass of this distant neighbor. So in 1958 we got a scant few images of pluto.

They were grey oranges blobs that looked lop sided and strange. It was impossible to focus on it but we realized then that Pluto had a moon. So close that they shared an orbit and a limited atmosphere. So close that they probably had been the same object until an event broke them apart. The fact remained we had no idea what it actually looked like.

The Hubbell could not focus on anything that close so it remained a mystery until the satellite reached it last year. These images took seven months to arrive to us at the near speed of light. That is how far away it is. The light from our sun takes seven minutes, this light seven months. No man made object has ever reached this point in our solar system before, and this takes advantage of the close pass of Pluto. Truly vast and tiny are we.

The white in the photograph is a giant ocean of frozen water and nitrogen. It has offset Pluto on its axis 60 degrees because of the difference in density. As it passes us this mass shifts as it gets warm, rolling the dark side towards the sun. Then it freezes again and rolls back. Charon is almost the same size and they orbit each other as a result. Spinning like two dancers as it makes its fifty year rotation around the earth.

Most of Lowell's theories turned out to be wrong, life on mars, canals, alien overlords, none of that was right, but his first observation never confirmed until Wilson was spot on.

My advice is to take a good look at something humanity has never seen before and think of something other than your self.

 

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Your Buddhist thought for the day.

I have a marble that contains all the fixed elements in the universe. All the ones that are not made as a result of temporary reactions like californium. It's is an odd thing to think it contains uranium, silver, lead and mercury all at once, but it does. Perhaps it contains some sort of quantum attractor that draws all the known elements to it. Just a tiny bit at a time. If gravity was a factor it might be layered, a stratum of the heavier molecules stuck to the lighter ones but it doesn't. It's just all mashed up in a ball.

On first inspection it does not seem possible. Some elements repell each other, so whatever unknowable force combined it overcame it. Defeated the laws of physics and did it anyway. It might give one pause to think on the nature of impossibility. Is there anything that is actually impossible? Or merely highly unlikely?

Anyone who has discarded absolute thinking arrives at this problem. It is a primary core of Buddhist thought that there are no absolutes, nothing stays in a fixed state for very long. Or at Least Long in terms of a galactic time line. It would appear that all we cherish is in a state of change from living to dead but in fact all things in the universe are recycled. The first law of thermodynamics states that matter and energy cannot be created or destroyed.

We can be comforted in the fact that a dying pet or relative, friend or otherwise will return to the system in one fashion or another. We all have at least one Hitler based molecule in us, there are just too many molecules to discount that. In the idea of reincarnation we find comfort in the fact a dead friend may return to us in the form of another person. Less so when we shatter the whole and settle for an atom or two.

Somehow life must be special, a living thing becomes another living thing, it's what we want to believe but I am more comforted by the notion that it's not. A tiny bit of rock, or a mouse fart can contain as much Hitler molecule as any of us. So don't worry there's enough Hitler molecule for everyone and everything and it is not going anywhere.

All is one, the great way is simple for one who has no distinctions. The real bitch in all this is that we are nothing but a cluster of distinctions.

Namaste.

 

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A prayer to the small gods of conspicuous consumption.

Give unto me, more oh Lord.
Deliver me from want, fill my void
With enough cool stuff I can be the man of my dreams
But God won't give it to me, that bastard
I can he happy, smarter, and better liked if
I had a whole bunch more.
The newer model makes the old one shit
It's shit, I'm shit, more please.
They skipped the 9 to have the X
Who wouldn't want a ten?
X marks the spot allright
The center of me.
"Most of us starve, some of us drive"
Mercedes Benz, USA

 

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Old Ghosts...

I know things that have now been forgot.
I know things that were never known.

 

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My Dog


There are times when I cannot find a single reason to keep trying except my dog...

 

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News Feed

I have found that just reading the news in the morning has become a traumatic experience. I just can't keep watching this nightmare unfold. I think it's time to go back to breast porn and puppy videos. Your brain runs on what you feed it.


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Cutest Ones

You would think humans would place in the top 20, but apparently not. Newly compiled data from animal behaviorist indicate the most bloodthirsty animals are the cutest ones. Haha jokes on you.

The human murder rate is 5.1 percent, we are way behind; I guess I assumed everyone thought like I did.

 

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Heroes

Maybe today is a good day to think about heroes. Not so much capes and tights but those that choose to face disaster, horror, sickness and death and try to do something about it. Those are my heros.

The mother of an adult autistic son, never tiring. Hit, bitten, and yelled at, but still very much loved.

A nurse in an American war zone, plugging bullet holes and delivering babies in a city this country has abandoned.

A struggling alcoholic with one good hand who gave his other one to defusing an rpg in iraq. Everyday of his life is a struggle with suicide.

And those of us who get up suit up and endure despite a daily urge to simply lay down, wallow in depression and never rise again.

Go forward, my heroes, who ever you are. Light the way.

 

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Present Moment Awareness

The present moment...that is what is on my mind.
Anything else is a fucking disaster.

 

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Hell

Most people live in the hell they deserve.
They created it.

 

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 9/11

Today the world changed,.. as I stood watching, glued to the TV I knew the world was never going to be the same again. We lost something there,.. not just two buildings or 3000 people but something etherial, an illusion of safety. Flying became a nightnare, instantly, bad jokes became illegal. The country's assholes clenched and never relaxed. Every Muslim in the world took a bite of the shit sandwich that was made by a small group of assholes.

It's as though one huge event shifted the entire world two inches to the right and now the whole world is slightly out of kilter. I knew it when I saw it. The world was never the same afterwards, it can't be.

I noticed this morning that there is nothing in the news, Facebook has not pointed out its patriot day. It's the gorilla in the room, no one wants to think about it. I'll never forget it, it's our generations Kennedy assassination. I guess in a way we healed from it, and now we just want to forget it.

Fair enough.

 

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Mac'n'Cheese

Last night I decided to make susauge mac and cheese. I wondered briefly if there is such a thing as a cooking gene. My mother is one of the world's worst cooks. I'm not quite sure what went wrong, or how mac and cheese was transformed into roofing shingles but that is past now. If in the event I ever have to make a blast hardened substance in the coming apocalypse I know the ingredients. Not as handy as home made plastique but still usefull.

I made the mac ok, but the susauge got burnt into gravel, I used it anyway. Then I got the idea to melt some cheese on top so I put it on and set it in tbe oven at 350, anyways waited for the cheese to melt. I waited 15 mins, then another. Nothing melted. Finally I gave it fifteen more and took it out of the oven....

What remained was a hard, condensed mass of gravel and slate that tasted vaguely of cheese. I was hungry and it now took almost two hours so I ate it.

 

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Hilarious article to follow.

With my strange and diabolical mind I have decided to research pet food. Insane, hilarious article to follow.

 

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Shoulda stayed in New Jersey

Back in the nineteen's I knew some pretty scary, connected people. I ran guns and drugs and it brought me into a few pretty scary circles. One of them is so scary I'll only use his his initials. I was talking to PG'S little brother Mike and he was talking about pro boxing. They had ran the largest international sports book in the world. I can't remember the fight but it was a white guy versus a retiring black guy. Word was the black chap was over weight and eating ice cream. The bulk of the bets were on the white guy, of Irish descent beating the champ.

I mentioned the racism and the fact the white guy was a crowd favorite. Mikey seemed to think it was a foregone conclusion. PG walked into the room, spoke to Mike and actually acknowledged me. Then Mike filled him in on our conversation, he nodded and said "Never bet on the white guy, ever."

The white guy went down in the fourth round and didn't get back up untill it was over. A lot of people wearing clover leafs and Irish flags looked suprised. I looked back and saw PG,. He said "the fight was over the minute that dumb jamoke signed the release, shoulda stayed in New Jersey."

 

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Specism

In spite of the recent events in Charlottesville, I am amazed to see that we are still ignoring the real problem. The repto sapien alliance is real and they will eat us all like feeder mice. Racism is tiny compared to specism, get your head out of your asses! The reptiles will come for you and eat your fuckin brains! Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump are the same reptile wearing different skin suits. You don't know who is real untill you peel them. Wake up sheep! Before it's to late.

 

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Consider Yisrael Kristal....

Consider Yisrael Kristal....

Born 1903 in Lodz Poland, with a small family loan he opened a chocolate business that became a factory. In 1936 as a law abiding citizen he registered as Jewish with the government and continued on his way. Married the same year. Two children followed, and life looked good despite what was happening next door. Not rich, not poor he went to work everyday doing what he loved, making chocolate. In a bitter, short two weeks Poland capitulated in the wake of a one sided battle consisting of the Polish hussars on horse back and lances versus the 2nd SS panzer divison. A slaughter with the poles facing 80 percent casualties. The war for Poland was over and the order came from germany. The formation of the Warsaw ghetto and the collection of the Juden. The factory was given to his apprentice and Yisrael, his wife and two children turned themselves in.

He could have ran, he had money his whole family could gave bolted, but he stayed. His wifes family had no exit and he had two small children, one not well possibly tb. A long year passed which saw the death of one of his children in Warsaw, followed by the other the next year. Conditions were bad, food rare and many profiteers selling on the black market. It would be hard to imagine the man's pain at this point, or that his life could get worse.

He was transferred to Auchwitz in the round up, thousands were shot. At some point he must have kissed his wife good bye hoped to God that this would pass and never saw her again. She died at Brikennau having never seen him again.

Yisrael stood in deaths shadow many times in four years, he was moved to the extermination camp and then back our four times as the Reich labor shortage grew worse. He was a tin smith, a shoe repair man, even made munitions. Each time he was called out of the line up he knew in his heart that he would see his wife and children again. A person of my age cannot imagine his ordeal, but we can study it, understand the man. Who survived.

When Auchwitz was liberated by the Russian army it was described as a vision of hell. Many soldiers choose suicide to end the parade of horror that lived behind their eyes. Yisrael was informed by the red cross that no one in his family had survived. That's no one. Everyone he ever knew by blood was gone. On your worst day remember that.

The state of Israel was formed in April of 1948 and he was one of the first people that settled there under the settlement act instituted under Truman. He went to Haifa and with a small loan opened a chocolate shop. It grew into a factory, again and then the premiere supplier of sweets and chocolate in Israel.

When the never ending pain settled of survival he married again, to an other survivor and had children. Again. This life gave him back everything he lost plus grandchildren. He lived in Haifa for the rest of his life and died two days ago at the age of 113.

He walked to work everyday, worked everyday and everyone who spoke to him said he said he was the happiest man they had ever met. Very few people even knew he had been in the shoa, he gave it no life, he refused to let it occupy space in his head. When I choose to feel sorry for myself I have this and him to remind me just how petty that is.

 

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You die in the end.

There can be no greater victory,
for a person whose life has been a great number of defeats,
than to awake and try again.

There are those who pay no mind,
To the wreckage of thier past,
Doomed to forever repeat it.

There are those who think of nothing but this,
The wreckage, the horror, the pain of helplessness.
Again doomed to wallow and repeat.

Somehow both are cursed with repetition,
Never to grow, learn, recover, or finally surpass.
A horrible fate awaits them both, no change, no growth, only this.

In the wallower lies only fear and insecurity .
The surety that what has transpired repeats.
Thier failure guaranteed by fear of trying.

In the egotistical hell of the ignorant we have resent and blame.
If only the world did what they want, they could win.
Rage fuels them to fail again. An inescapable delema.

Instead perhaps accept your role,
Accept others wounds against you and own both.
Remove but and becuase from your lexicon of failure.

Now the choice is simple.
Go forward, rise, fight, maybe win, maybe fail.
Or go home, blow out the pilot light and stick your head in the oven.

The outcome is the same actually.
You die in the end.
I promise.

 

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Questions

You should google the question "how many people have ever been born on earth?" At least once in your life, and when you see the number stop and think. Post what you come up with, I'm curious. First thoughts, short or long.

 

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Independence

This depicts the submission of the draft of the declaration of independence. It is known, incorrectly as the signing but that is absolutely not the case. The amazing things about this painting are numerous. Turnbull painted this between 1817 and 1819, it is 12 by 18 feet oil on canvas. Because it has been kept indoors it has never been restored, only cleaned. Each of the 46 persons depecticed in this were painted from life, no guess work or embellishment. There were actually 56 signers but Turnbull refused to include them if he could not depict them accurately. This was in the age before photography so that in its self is a huge undertaking. Benjamin Harrison had died during the painting but he is depecticed becuase his son was a spitting image of him. Each of these men posed for thier part in some degree or another.

Several of them tried to bribe Turnbull to make them less fat, or less grey to no avail. John Adams felt as though a painting might destroy the truth of the moment, but agreed to pose. The men who signed and drafted this document had signed their own death warrant. This was rebellion and a direct fuck you to the legal, ruling government. Thus every man here was technically a terrorist. They had taken up violent revolt against thier government for ideological reasons. This document stated that they intended to defy the government and declare sovereignty against the men who had founded this country.

It was the ground note of war. Of the seven copies that were made and signed five exist today. One was destroyed by King George apon receiving it, the other when the Whitehouse was burned to the ground during the war of 1812. Of note here is the absence of George Washington. He is neither depicted nor did he sign the document becuase he was still an officer in the British Army. This was without a doubt treason.

Independence day in this country does not represent the day we signed the document and took up arms against our government. July fourth was the day the Congressional Congress ratified the document and finally agreed to its content. In other words July fourth is the day we quit fucking arguing about it.

The preamble reads,..

When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bonds which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any form of government becomes destructive to these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shown that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their future security.

It is only natural that with this grand declaration we failed to include the rights of slaves, immigrants, Indians or any member of another country legally occupying the contient. I speak of course of the Spanish in Florida, the Mexicans of Texas and California. Never mind that we had declared our own freedom while insuring bondage to the people we considered property. The document actually insures the right to private property, including people.

It was not for another eighty years did we insure the rights of African Americans and only after a war that cost 1.5 million American lives. Forty years after that did we finally settle our fight with the Indians in 1912. That is a matter of debate as to whether we ever did. Thus began our rebellion.

Most of the battles we fought against the British we lost mind you, we only won the last three. We won them by using what would be considered asymmetrical warfare or gurella tactics. Aiming for British officers and blowing up ships at port. We cheated, but fuck it we won.

I know, I know, too fucking long, couldn't read it. If it's not a tweet it's not worth thinking about.

 

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Baby Food

Guy at a party, clearly drunk. Hitting on people, making poor social choices, wants to use the Mexicans as a piñata. He makes no sense, won't stop talking. Girl says, wow that guy is really drunk. Guys say, girl is fat, ugly, and no one wants her because she is bleeding. Goes on rant about her and guy sitting next to her.

All of guys friends are telling him to shut up, not cool. Even the people who brought him to the party. Starts making up lies about her to make himself look better. Everyone is getting further and further away from him but he won't leave.

Here's the punchline, that describes what's going on in the Whitehouse right now except that he isn't drunk. Even Paul Ryan this morning said he is out of control while blocking a ban on pesticides in baby food. I'm not making this up, really.

 

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Only I will remain...

"I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone, there will be nothing.
Only I will remain."

Frank Herbert wrote this in Dune, I forgot about it for many years but I used to chant this everytime my anxiety became overwhelming.

 

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They are angry...

When I was a kid growing up in LA I was in the punk and Oi scene. It had a raw intensity and honestly that the hair spray bands didn't have. Our singers wore hard shoes and old Levis and sang about political and social issues, we shaved our heads becuase it was clean and hard to grip in a fight. On the other side was guys who sang about broken hearts and childhoods they never had. When they did, Axle rose comes to mind it, sounded like a cat being fucked in the ass by a hot poker.

Oi music was a mix of hardcore and Ska that covered the banal shit, like working or having a hard time. Wasn't really much different than what the hair bands and new wave was carrying on with, but there was a certain honesty to it. Bands like the dead kennedys sang about politics, against the republucan elite, and social progression. The real Hazzard in going to a show was getting the shit kicked out of you by a racist skinhead, so we started wearing blue laces and braces to differentiate ourselves from the nazis. When we started fighting back, using the same tactics they did they started bringing knives and bats to the party. My friend Eddie Long a sharp skin ( skin heads against racist people) was shot and crippled for trying to stop a rape at the Olympic auditorium. We upped the game and eventually the whole thing wasn't fun any more.

It got to the point where a show would have six or eight white power skins in the center of the room looking to kick someone's head in. Red laces and red braces, these assholes grew up to form the ANP and the storm front groups that plagued Orange county in the eighties and made it impossible to have a show at all.

I always knew they had a right to there beliefs, as did I but I was raised by pot smoking hippies and my mom partied with wilt chamberlain and members of the band war. I never had an example or reason to hate, blacks, jews, or mexicans. They were doing lines and smoking pot in my living room at night in the center of hollywood.

I resented the nazi's becuase they destroyed something I loved and needed, the punk scene. While watching the Sacramento race riot this morning it occurred to me that a bunch of nationalist bullies are crying fowl becuase they got out numbered and stomped on by people disgusted with thier intolerance. Boo fucking hoo.

I hate the social justice people becuase they don't do thier own thinking, just follow a party line and wind up just as intolerant as the assholes they are fighting. If you can't make a stand and decide why you hate something it's better to just avoid that issue. Thinking racism is bad or good becuase all your friends think it is, is pathetic.

It drops you in the same bin as Dylan Rooth who shot up a black church. His IQ was 60, to low to attend public school. His family was racist trash and it was all he knew, the modern liberal is no different. Mindless obedience to ideas you don't understand is useless, it it leads to exactly what this country is facing now.

We have an idiot facist who is about to be elected becuase the Bernie Sanders people refuse to vote. Even Bernie has said he will vote Hillary to keep trump out, despite that we still hear the echoes of his negative campaign against Hillary, the same reason he lost so many people in mainstream politics. Mindless obedience to this shit is actually bringing about our own worst nightmares.

The sad fact is those micro penis nazi idiots had every right constutionally to there rally and a bunch of frustrated idiots decided to practice the same intolerance they are fighting against. I don't like nazi's but I don't like the mindless politically correct bullshit that is lobotomizing this country either.

Do your own thinking for fucks sake and learn to write in something other than Emoji.

If Donald Trump is going to have anyone to thank on election day, it will be the wackadoddle jobs that shouted cunt at Hillary Clinton. Who endorses that behavior? Bernie never made a statement saying that was wrong, instead he said "they are angry." You know who else said the same thing when a black lives matter protestor got put in the hospital? Donald micropenis Trump. Think about it, Google it, and see if I'm wrong.

Any comments are welcome, even from a rightwing asshole I don't agree with.

 

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Sympathetic.

Just had a look at the website Daily Stormer,.. there really is no getting around this shit in the modern era. Frustrated, scared, disenfranchised white people need to know they are not alone. Or at least on the internet. Subsisting on pizza in your mother's basement while playing Call of Duty is actually alone.

I am always suprised when these people approach me thinking I am sympathetic. I do have tattoos, and did shave my head for seven years. I own guns, and shoot competitively, but I really don't have that in me; I don't hate anyone really besides the entire human race, why only bits of it? If any of it really bothers me, it is the Newtown conspiracy people; they have a right to their beliefs, but sending letters to the parents of dead children is a bit much.

In the immortal words of Lenny Bruce, "Always leave em laughing."

 

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F.E.F.U.D.

Forward... that's all. Just push forward. I find myself feeling hopeless and afraid for the future. I worry about failing, letting those that trust me down. If I hide it is a surety, if I try it is possible I might fail, but possible I might not. So it's simple really. forward ever forward until death.

 

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**

Burn One Down.

Don't know why this song makes me teary but it does. Maybe because the friends I sat and sang this with are gone. Either to stupid choices, or drug addiction. I can't smoke pot any more becuase of mental illness but I think I miss the closeness of smoking pot in a circle with a few friends. Saw him in 2008 with an ex friend that I wound up nearly having to kill when I caught him stalking me. He had threatened to burn my house down and kill my dog. I told him if I saw him on my property, I would go for him, and drive his truck to the Mexican border. A week later, I caught him in front of my house. Needless to say, I didn't waste him but it was a bad scene. So much rage and entitlement in a person who had everything. Paranoid delusional people should not smoke pot. I am not sure who was more scared, me holding the pistol in his ribs, or him so near death. If I had found any evidence of a gas can or a road flare I would have done him up and called it self-defense. I had the threat on tape.

 

 

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**

Forty-Seven.

Forty-seven years years ago today I came into the world wet and screaming. For most of my life I guess I stayed that way. It was not until the last three years, after loosing everything including my mind that I seemed to change.

Self hatred runs deep in my bones, of this there is no doubt. I have spent a great deal of my life desperate to be someone else. Some years back through Buddhism I found that selfless giving and the annihilation of the self served to soothe some of that burning hatred. I still look in the mirror and wonder how anyone as ugly as me manages to get laid.

There is an inexorable sense of loss for me as I grow older. I never did the smart things my friends did. Choose a career, get married, raise a family. I just went through life one day ahead of the next and never gave much thought to the future. I do not recommend this. The people I admire opened tattoo shops, had children, did thier best everyday. I did none of that. Others choose an artistic carerr and slugged it out year after year to carve a nitch for themselves. I had none of that.

I change partners every two years and my only son was taken from me before I knew him. Selfish doesn't even begin to cover it. When I look at my current life it is cringe worthy. I am a handy man, I live in a little house and try and help people. Someone's ability to pay does not decide thier access to my assistance. I give and expect nothing in return, often that is what I recieve. That's ok.

In the last three years I have experienced a huge die off in people I knew. If the life style didn't kill them some disease did. Addiction and poor life choices killed most of them. It is only now that I realize that quitting drinking probably saved my life. I have that yearning now to do something good with what time I have left.

I work with an autistic guy and try to be kind to everyone around me but nothing really soothes the horror of my memory. The lingering horror of what I have done. I can't imagine who I would be if I didn't have a conseince. Probably a lot like the people in my life I don't talk to anymore.

I think I lost a friend this year, maybe it was for the best but with out him I would not be alive today. We grew apart when I realized the center of his life was smoking pot. He is one of the few I would drop everything for, even now but I just can't deal with his life choices.

Well anyway, to those who read this thanks and you know when you need me I am there when the shit hits the fan. Forty seven feels a lot like forty two only much less painful.

 

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**

Pulse.

A year ago today, Omar Matteen walked into the pulse nightclub and started shooting. Chaos ensued and bullets flew around the room. Several rounds passed through multiple people, the room was packed. A fifty six year old mother of five, after surviving cancer jumped in front of the shooter. She died.

Hit five times she went out exactly how she wanted too. Protecting her children. As he prowled the room survivors watched as he fired into groups of people. A groups of survivors hid in the bathroom and alerted the police. The swat team breached the wall and pulled them out, then entered.

They found him in the middle of the room holding an AR-15, they did not wait a second to end his life, which is right and proper.

Later we learn he was at the fringe of the gay scene. Possibly enjoying the benifits of a blow job without subscribing to the lifevstyle. Perhaps self hatred sent him there to erase in his mind what he had done. Nothing will ever erase it.

The sad reality is that nothing changed. Becuase it happened in a gay bar we as a society didn't care, didn't pass laws or even do any real investigation. Just another case of "oh well a fag got killed."

Transgender and gay teens lead the suicide rate but we don't care about those numbers. The CDC doesn't track gay teens or Transgender individuals. If anything should be on your mind in the wake of this disaster, it should be that.

 

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**

15 Practical Ways To Find Your Zen At Work.

Found this on a friends page from an article with Thich Nhat Hanh...thought it through.

15 practical steps Thay says we can take to bring mindfulness to our work:

1. Start your day with 10 minutes of sitting in meditation.
2. Take the time to sit down and enjoy eating breakfast at home.
3. Remind yourself every day of your gratitude for being alive and having 24 brand-new hours to live.
4. Try not to divide your time into "my time" and "work." All time can be your own time if you stay in the present moment and keep in touch with what’s happening in your body and mind. There’s no reason why your time at work should be any less pleasant than your time anywhere else.
5. Resist the urge to make calls on your cell phone while on your way to and from work, or on your way to appointments. Allow yourself this time to just be with yourself, with nature and with the world around you.
6. Arrange a breathing area at work where you can go to calm down, stop and have a rest. Take regular breathing breaks to come back to your body and to bring your thoughts back to the present.
7. At lunchtime, eat only your food and not your fears or worries. Don’t eat lunch at your desk. Change environments. Go for a walk.
8. Make a ritual out of drinking your tea. Stop work and look deeply into your tea to see everything that went into making it: the clouds and the rain, the tea plantations and the workers harvesting the tea.
9. Before going to a meeting, visualize someone very peaceful, mindful and skillful being with you. Take refuge in this person to help stay calm and peaceful.
10. If you feel anger or irritation, refrain from saying or doing anything straight away. Come back to your breathing and follow your in- and out-breath until you’ve calmed down.
11. Practice looking at your boss, your superiors, your colleagues or your subordinates as your allies and not as your enemies. Recognize that working collaboratively brings more satisfaction and joy than working alone. Know that the success and happiness of everyone is your own success.
12. Express your gratitude and appreciation to your colleagues regularly for their positive qualities. This will transform the whole work environment, making it much more harmonious and pleasant for everyone.
13. Try to relax and restore yourself before going home so you don’t bring accumulated negative energy or frustration home with you.
14. Take some time to relax and come back to yourself when you get home before starting on household chores. Recognize that multitasking means you’re never fully present for any one thing. Do one thing at a time and give it your full attention.
15. At the end of the day, keep a journal of all the good things that happened in your day. Water your seeds of joy and gratitude regularly so they can grow.

  • Thich Nhat Hanh
    "15 Practical Ways To Find Your Zen At Work", The Huffington Post.

 

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**

This week in the news.

The night before the One Love Manchester concert, which gave out 14,000 free tickets, three Moslem extremists drove a transit van over London bridge killing more people . Then they attacked a restaurant and pub full of people with knives. Obviously gun control has reduced thier crime rate.

In Portland, an anti-Islam idiot stabbed three peop,e trying to defend a woman in a hijabi. Two of them died. Today a full scale riot broke out at a peace protest and memorial in the city square. Good to see real progresses there.

Our president pulled out of the Paris accords citing itchy-buttcrack and mumbling. More fake news, mumble mumble, fart.

The Dakota access pipeline silently leaked 800 barrels of oil in testing. Pretty standard stuff and very small according to BP. Course anything after the Gulf deep water horizon looks small. So congrats there..

The EPA refused to answer when asked directly if Trump thinks climate change is a hoax. Turns out by presidential mandate they aren't allowed to even say the word climate change. Current head is an oil executive, Oh well. Free speech I guess.

Two Marines were arrested for displaying a white power banner at a confederate rally. They were returned to active duty, punishment enough I guess. Again free speech. Oh wait hate speech isn't protected.

The star of the big bang theroy took a fourth of July pic with her dogs sitting on the American flag. Love my country, love dogs, love the flag, hate idiots in the public light. She blames dog sitter, after she posted the picture to twitter.

It gets better, despite various promises, our veterans continue to have their benifits reduced. Trump has spent more time on vacation in his first hundred days than Obama in four years, maybe that is a good thing.

Kelly Ann Conway has not make a sound in five weeks, also a good thing. Sean Spicer hid behind a hedge in his last press conference. White house canceled all further weekly press briefings sighting the budget.

There it is folks... another week in America.

 

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**

Jesus.

So a guy gets a tattoo of praying hands, saying Jesus is my lord and savior. Tattoo artist tells him not to go in ocean, keep it covered and don't touch it. Next day he goes swiming in the Gulf of texas, gets an ocean bacteria and winds up in the hospital. Skin hurts all over, nausea and direhha.

Doctors finds he is infected with blood poisoning and type of infection is from rotting fish and feces in the sea. The quy is used to drinking a twelve pack a day, so he has a compromised immune system and liver damnage.

Texas news paper tries to say this is a danger of tattooing, doctors says it is a danger of being drunk and stupid. In most cases (97%) the infection is contracted by eating raw oysters. He died this morning.

Doctors direct quote is, "if he had listened to the artist this would not have happened." Despite this the news paper prints, "Man with Jesus tattoo dies from infection."

Jesus maybe your savior, but using your brain could have saved your life. I'm glad he is dead, with Jesus and his new tattoo in heaven.

 

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**

Graffiti.

Labron James's home was graffitied last night. They spray painted the "N" word on his front gate. His statement said that you had to expect a certain amount of hatred towards black peopke, that it was part of America. No, it isnt. It's fucked up unacceptable behavior no matter where you find it. I can't help but feel a little sad that people, even the victims just normalize it, like oh well.. merica fuck ya.

I'm not black, I have never had to live with that feeling that the whole country hates you because of your skin color. I hate that it exists at all, but I really hate the idea of normalizing it as a way of just shrugging it off. I guess if some one spray painted" fuck you, cracker" on my doo,r I would just clean it off and feel bad that someone lives with that kind of hatred in thier heart. I don't think it defines my country and who we are as Americans. It defines who we are as a species, xenophobic, violent and terrified.

 

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**

Another notion on Memorial Day...

Eric Holk was a 38 year old friend of mine who married a severely battered woman and adopted her child. He was in the United States National Guard in 2006 and served two years in Iraq back to back. He had done this because he received $40,000 and incentive money to return immediately to the war. On his second to last day of his second tour his final duties was to train his replacement. Eric was a machine gunner on top of a Humvee his job was escorting foreign dignitaries to and from the airport. While training his replacement in the green zone the driver of the Humvee skipped the curb hit a light pole and flipped the Jeep. Eric and his replacement were in the top turret they were both killed instantly.

Eric was a guy who never said no, I've never seen somebody smile so hard in my life. a member of the Renaissance Fair in the SCA and a man who was truly kind to his wife and her child who never had a father. Eric tried his hardest and died two days before he was going to go home.

Here's to you, gone but not forgotten.

 

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**

On the notion of Memorial Day...

On November fourth, two thousand four, while trying to retrieve the bodies of four blackwater contractors from a bridge, the men of 3/2 marines came under heavy fire. Of the fifteen men sent to fetch the guys who had been up to no good on the other of the bridge in Falluja, four died. The third battalion returned in force the next day to find themselves massively out numbered and under indirect fire from artilley. A three hundred person retreat ensued under heavy casualties to try and get back across the bridge and away from the shelling.

Four men volunteered to say behind and hold the mouth so that the others could escape. Two snipers and two light machine gunners held back three thousand trained mercenaries for forty minutes before their guns were silenced. Their bodies were not recovered, one of these people was a Nineteen year old corporal named Abraham Simpson. Who I watched make eagle scout and graduate highschool. He gave his life willingly to save the lives of the third battalion. His mother had nothing to bury. So memorial day to me is the day I try and honor the men and women who gave thier life in the service of our county.

They didn't pick the war, or the politics, they picked the service and all that it entails.

I don't know how this holiday got to be about beer and hotdogs, but at least they are doing something.

 

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**

Inconvenience.

In the last Douglas Addams book, he knew he was dying. He decided to write God's final message to his people. You took a tour and rented scooters to get to a ridge were you could read it. The miracle was that no matter what species you were, you could read it. So Arthur takes the tour, and when he reads the message it says...

We are sorry for the inconvenience.

 

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**

Friends.

It's good to have a friend that will help you not only carry a body, but stuff it in a chipper shredder. Every once in a while you meet someone as mad as you, sometimes this is even a good thing.
The older I get, the more these things matter to me I guess.

 

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**

What am I now?

A single man, slowly losing his teeth. I live alone and prefer the company of women without a sexual intent. I read three hours a day, work nine. A few times a week a friend comes over. I am a rotten cook but a good friend. My closest friend is a dog and I don't suffer fools gladly.

I don't watch TV, at all. I don't drink anymore and after losing my mind I can't even smoke pot, becuase it makes my demons scream louder. I try and be polite to everyone in the event it is necessary to kill them, I don't want hard feelings. It would be a function of necessity rather than pleasure.

I spend my life charging very little in order to make myself accessible to people that really need help. I am not a person with goals, hopes or dreams. Life crushed those out of me in childhood. Everyday is a new day, or a last day and the next begins a new one. If I don't wake up tomorrow that's ok. No one can count on another day on this planet.

I don't believe in god, or anything past today. No hell, no heaven but it is fun to think about. I like the idea that you will see all those that have gone before you but I suspect that's not the case.

What am I now?

Alive, awake, trying hard, capable of good and bad. All the same things you are really but I don't have hope. Aspirations are things for people that expect to survive tomorrow or the next day.

If I wake up tomorrow I will do the same things I did today and hope for a similar outcome.

I now officially know more dead people than live ones. I suspect this is a result of my previous life style.

So that's what I am. I am here, right now and little else.

 

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**

Forward.

Go forward,..
Despite fear
Hopelessness
Inevitably
Heat
Cold
Darkness
Strife
Futility
Stupidity

What choice remains when we have chosen to abandon forward? Backwards is not possible, so we are left with neutral, which despite our best efforts is still forward. Too much time in the past hurts, too much time thinking about the future much the same. You have now and little else, just this right now. Anything else I'm sure is an illusion.

 

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**

Silver Rosary.

This is a photo of the pope visiting the man who shot him four times in the stomach. They spoke for almost forty minutes. I guess it takes more than most people have to do something like this. I am no fan of Catholicism but this sticks with me. He wanted to go before him and forgive him for his crimes. At the end of thier meeting, he gave the man a silver rosary that had been his when he was younger and asked him to recognize god where ever he found him. Seven years later he was pardoned by the President of Italy at the request of the pope. When the man was deported back to Turkey, he was again imprisoned for being a bank robber and political anarchist before shooting the pope. After 29 years in prision he was released and died shortly afterwards . On a day I am looking for some good in the world, I can find this

 

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**

Chris Cornell.

Having lived with suicidal depression my entire life I find the recent death of Chris Cornell to be a bit tragic. I have had seven people in my life kill themselves and I was headed in a similar direction. I understand it, choose death. That makes sense to me but I don't think it's a good idea until you know your at the end of your road.

My friend Jason killed himself becuase he was afraid of how much worse it could get without thinking about the possibility that it could get better. His life had gone from a successful buisness with a house and a girlfriend to living in a car while his dog was dying of cancer.

Chris Cornell had a wife, two great kids and a substance abuse problem. His advantages outweighed the difficulties. Yet somehow he couldn't get past the depression. So he played his last show, said goodbye to his family and put a belt around his neck.

I lived in a series of abusive relationships, allowing women to emotionally batter me becuase I thought I deserved it. My son died at two years old, every mentor in my life died in two years and I lost the courage to leave my house. My father died three days into chemo and his last words to me of any substance were to quit drinking. I watched my temple disolve into petty infighting and my teacher blow the whole thing sky fucking high. Death looked pretty tasty.

I had to scrap my whole life in order to start again. I got rid of every negative person in my life except my mother. I quit smoking dope, got treatment for opioid addiction and finally quit the drink but it is still there. It might not be in the front anymore but it looms. You can always die.

When you get tired of failing and trying again it's an option. When your life causes more harm than good, you can go, it's your life, your choice. In the end you can't stop someone from it. This life is an option. What stopped me was my dog, friends,and the hope that it will get better. Some days it does, some not so much. The minute your dead your out of options, no more good days and no more bad days. I can understand the appeal of ending bad days forever but the hope of the good ones keeps me going.

I dunno, whatever. Fuck off; I'm sticking around to see what happens next.

 

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**

Candy.

Today is national homophobia and transphobia day. So please find a total stranger who looks queer or trans and offer them a hug! Most of them will go for it, a small percentage will stab you based on personal previous experience.

When I was in my twenties, my neighbor was a trans lady named Candy. At first, there was a fair bit of snickering in her direction, but I learned the hard way what a decent lady she was. My neighborhood was two blocks from a few hot trans sales corners. We have five or six on each corner after dark. Funny thing was they were all really nice, in a kill you with kindness sort of way. They never gave my wife any flack, and the worst I got was whistles and come-ons when I parked.

Candy owned the house next to mine, and was (bonded and commited) to a straight guy named Mustafa who was really uptight. He must have lived with a fair bit of angst over his role because he was prickly and went out of his way to be macho. I had not spoken to either of my parents in about six years at the time, but on mothers day she asked me about my mom. I had some fucked up poisonous thing to say, I'm sure. She told me her mother was dead and that her whole family had disowned her when she changed. They were Cubans from Florida that came in the seventies. Back then, they put trans people in mental hospitals. Despite this, she told me how important family was and that my mother loved me.

Mustafa left her and went off to have a family, which she told me was the thing her body could not give him. I never liked seeing a woman cry, I gave her a hug and tried to be helpful but distant. She started dating a piece of rough trade that had just got out of San Quentin. Scary looking strong guy.

It got loud over there a few times but when it turned violent, I heard her call my name and I met the boy with a shotgun full of deer slugs. He did not want to get shot, and as a felon, did not want the police involved. Candy had a black eye, I would have killed him on general principles. He took his stuff and never came back. Two years later, my wife of twelve years left me and it was Candy that reminded me about family and what mattered in life. I felt very low, and she knew it. One night we had a long talk and a bottle of wine on her porch.

I got to learn a bit about her life, and how she came to own that little bungalow house. She had been a prostitute for fifteen years before saving enough to buy that little bungalow, just two blocks from the corner she worked. She met Mustafa, fell in love and became a licensed massage therapist.

In the two years more that I owned that house before losing it to foreclosure, she did things that really amazed me. She stuck up for me with the neighbors and we took out each other's trash cans. When the FBI yanked me out of bed and hazed me with a dog at three am, she was at the fence hurling abuse at them and calling her lawyer. She called the feds "little-dick faggots" and said I had a lawyer. When that was all over, she never said another word about it. Right before the bank foreclosed on me and I became homeless, she paid my power bill when they came to shut the electricity off. I never paid her back.

She called me drunk and and asked for sex once. Later, she even offered to loan me the seven grand to stop the foreclosure. I couldn't take the money and I knew it was time to go. After I was gone, she called me on Christmas of all things and said pleasant things.

She also mothered the rent boys and trans people that worked the corner, which made the neighbors hate her. She made her own family. One of them died two hundred feet from her door on Cahuenga Blvd, probably trying to get to her house, stabbed in the guts. The whole neighborhood blamed her for the blood on the sidewalk.

She died two years ago of prostrate cancer, but they broke the mold on her. So here's to national anti-trans phobia day, I think of her on Christmas and wish she was still around. I learned a lot from her about being judgemental and learned to regret every snicker I sent her away when we first met.

 

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**

Nemesis.

It's nice to have friends, real friends, when things get scary.
We are our own nemesis in most cases.
No one can scare me like me when my mind wanders.

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**

Can't shake it...

Anxiety creeping up in my head. Can't shake it..and can't face it.

 

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**

Get to work...

For those of us that suffer... Get the saw, bite down on something other than your tongue, and get to work. Remember only the skin has nerves, bones feel nothing, so it gets easier.

 

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**

Cinco de Mayo.

Ok...the true story of Cinco de Mayo. After the Mexican revolution so many people were sad about all the people Pancho Villa killed that the US sent a huge boat full of corn dogs and mayonaise to help them cheer up. The ship had almost three hundred thousand jars of mayo and nearly a million corn dogs on it and it sank off the coast of Texas. People starved and never got their government corn dog and a great sadness covered the land. It became known as sinko de mayo and is celebrated every year by a white person eating a corn dog while facing Mexico. To this day, corn dogs are not available in Mexico and that is why they immigrate here. The Donald is so fond of corn dogs that he wants to build a wall to protect them. Also he hates Mexicans.

 

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**

Liberation.

I wrote this thinking that Facebook might actually be right about the date of the liberation, and that ladies and gentlemen is why they call it dope. Auchwitz was liberated January 24 1945. May fourth is a Star Wars holiday.

Today is also the day the Russians liberated Auchwitz. Read the seminal work complied by the Holocaust library at USC called Anatomy of a Death Camp. It is composed entirely of primary sources, so there is very little opinion in the book. The scene must have been incredibly painful. Immediately, the orders were given to shut them back in and not to feed them. If they had allowed them to leave, they would have died from exposure and if they fed them their organs would have shut down completely. At Belsen, they let them loose and fed them from their own rations, which caused two thirds of them to die in less than three days.

Imagine the young Russian soldier who was given those orders, it must have seemed like madness to him. To witness that level of suffering and then be told that they couldn't help. In reading the book, I learned that a huge percentage of the soldiers who were there took their own lives, the horror had overwhelmed them.

My cousin, Benny Goodwin, was in Treblinka, a work camp for Jewish GI's; he never recovered mentally. There was a story that he tended to break down in super markets, and that for the rest of his life, he hid food in his mattress. The local police had his wife's number and would call to come get him if they found him crying in a park, or at a school. I found out that the reason was that the children were almost always gassed immediately if under six years old. So he spent the rest of his life in Lawrence Park, Pensylvania, with the knowledge that he had seen hell and survived.

It only takes one mad man with total power to predicate something like this, but it takes an entire society to go along with it. This why Illma Gore's picture of Trump was important to me, it helped quell the horror that it might happen again. Only us as people stand in the way of another holocaust. We can be sure of the apathy of other nations should it arise. As we ignored Germany from 1933 until 1944, they will ignore us.

"First they came for the Jews,.."


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**

Reality.

Taken by a female soldier on the front line, this is a 75mm mortar tube that exploded it's payload when it hit the bottom of the tube. Everyone within ten meters died, that's thirty feet. She gave her life for something she belived in, her country and the art of photography. She snapped. This picture tenths of a second before everything went black, forever. The man in the picture was obliterated.

Reality, take a good long look.

 

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**

Note to self...

Saw this post on a friends page...what would you say to your younger self?

Maybe I could go back in the way back machine, maybe it would snap back in sixty seconds due to membrane theory. So get in, set the dial for twenty five years and hit cook.

I'm 22, laying in bed with my wife at the time and it's three am..I have sixty seconds.

"Don't shoot! It's me, you, I know, listen, I only have a minute. Your health is going to be relatively good for the next twenty five years, so stop worrying about aids and cancer. Ease up on the ton of dope you smoke, quit ciggarettes now, and be careful with your temper. It's bad and people are going to get hurt, you will regret it later. Your wife truly loves you, but there is only so much she can take of your lifestyle; decide now if you want her in your life. Listen, I know this sucks, but most of the people in your life will be dead before you are 45; be kind, listen to them, help the best you can. You will watch several of them die; you can't do anything about it - no one can. Last thing, find out what makes you happy and do it; work hard everyday. Being a master stoner with a bad temper will cost you seriously later. Think about your future for once, for both of us. No matter how much you hate yourself, you can be loved. You get self-esteem by doing esteemable things. Do not drink, ever. Trust me on this.

One more thing...those people you get a really bad feeling about, but you are desperate to be liked? You're right about them. "

And then I snapped back.

Your turn, if you dare.

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**

Worn Down.

Maybe it's just the heat, but I have been sapped lately. Nothing really looks good and I am lucky to get a full day in. It feels like I'm crawling through mud just getting out of bed. Often times if I just push through it and don't give in to the urge to just lay down I feel better at the end of the day, but I'm really worn down.

I don't feel like I have much future, no real driving force in my life. Yesterday I managed to clean my shop a bit but I'm just dragging. I have a job for a real nasty lady today. We have agreed that she  won't be around when I'm there. I don't really look forward to anything, haven't in years. Something inside of me died.

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**

Breathe.

I have found myself to be rather short tempered and unkind the last few days. I usually have much more tolerance for stupidity, but it feels like everyone around me is in some sort of crisis. I feel stressed without any reason to be stressed. Some days I am full of fear, or depressed, but the last few I have been angry and that is rare. I need to catch that before I do something regrettable.

I was helping a woman visiting from China today in a gas station, and a guy behind me started yelling. My first urge was to just back my truck into his car and fuck him up. After he shot past me, he made the mistake of pulling back in to use the air machine. I was very close to using him as a therapy animal. I have little tolerance for stupidty in general but I mostly just leave it alone.

I just don't have time for it right now, and I am one poor decision from jail anyway.
I need to breathe my way through this.

 

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**

102nd Anniversary.

Today marks the 102nd anniversary of the Armenian Genocide. It continues to be ignored internationally and is mostly recognized in America, which has the second largest Armenian population outside of Armenia. I find it odd that Armenian buisness will be closed for the day and vandalism is known to occur if an Armenian person stays open.

Some of the younger more militant kids get roudy. The last gathering, which happened this day last year drew 125K thousand people. They are angry because their nightmare is ignored and laughed at. Turkey refuses to admit it existed. They will March on the Turkish embassy and demand recognition of the crime. Today means something to them; it was the day they began the slaughter of 1.6 million people in the wake of WW1.

These points in history should never be forgotten, lest they return. What do you say to someone on this holiday? Happy genocide day? I have decided on "I'm sorry this happened and the world ignored it."

 

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**

Sepuku.

Found this image. It was taken seconds before the man engaged in sepuku. He was either captured or defeated, but his actions were by choice. According to the code of bushido, he offered his life - either by dishonor or defeat, and it was accepted. Many times, as a kindness, the second person would strike his head off the second he put the knife in his own belly to prevent him crying out in agony. I think this picture depicts this moment. A small stain is present in his robe.

He would have settled his affairs, wrote a death haiku and then thanked his hosts. The four elements are always present in these ceremonies. I can only wonder how a photographer was allowed in the room.

 

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**

Richard Dadd

Such a complex painting by a man who was clearly insane. Richard Dadd was a textbook schizophrenic who stabbed his own father, believing he was the devil. Most of his pieces are considered minatures even though they get up to 18 inches. So complex, each took years to paint. Dead by suicide in a Victorian instution.

 

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**

A brief look at the news...

A man killed a 74 year old grandfather on facebook live to "show motherfuckers what is real" stuck a gun to his head and killed him while taking a selfie. He shot himself this morning after being cornered by police. So a happy ending for police.

North Korea has threatened to nuke us despite the fact their last rocket test got 158 feet. Their nuclear weapons are in the prototype phase and are deployed by cranes. It is kind like being threatened by a guy with the gun pointing at himself with one broken shell and a shaky hand. We could turn north Korea into a parking lot for south Korea easily and the guy in office is dumb enough to do it. If they built a theme park on the Chinese border it might be a good idea. "Reunification Land of Mouse-like Entity" might not be a bad seller, and once again, plenty of parking.

Donald Trump signs a hat for an enthusiastic young fan and then throws it into a crowd. Probably best for all really. Forgets to cover his heart during national anthem and his wife has to nudge him. Hell, I have done worse...  Melina agrees to move family to Washington after 450 million dollar security bill from congress. I don't blame her; DC is no place to raise a child.

And the hits just keep on coming.

 

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**

Thoughts of a man stuck between this and that...

I nearly died from drinking. Hands shook, couldn't keep much down and my brain was desperate to be someone else. By the time I was through my first 200ml of Jager I was sweating and angry. Before my second I had thrown up and tried not to hit my dog with the spray. I tasted blood everytime I did.

I would walk into the liquor store and the Korean owner would all ready have the bottle on the counter. 8.75 bought me closer to death. He did not care but it must have been obvious that I was on my way out. I guess I was 8.75 to him and not a person. When I went in there a year later he asked why I stopped coming in, he said he thought I died.

That is when it hit me, most of his customers die; that is what he had come to expect.

"You want more?"
"Eight seventy five" points at register display
"Thought you die."
"You want more?"

I bought my water bottle and left. He kinda scowled at me, the mark up on Fiji water was thinner than Jagermeister. I look back on that life and it's one big cringe. Do you recover from that? No, you survive. We never recover what we lost, gave, or traded.

You can't go home, but you can return.

 

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**

Drunk.

"It's kind of like being drunk."
"What's so awful about that ?"
"Not if your the glass of water." - Douglas Addams

 

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**

Bob.

The story of how this was done is quite extraordinary. Chester would give me weekly updates in buddha class. It started with a single greedy Jay and finally got to the point that all of them had caught on. Eventually the Jays would fly into the galleries to solicit peanuts and wouldn't leave till they got one. Causing management to ask him to stop training the wild jays. He told them the jays trained him. The treaty was finally struck when they asked him to feed them outside only. I can only imagine the staff meeting where they had to explain the problem.

 

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**

Gold.

"All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost."

"The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater."

- JRR Tolkien.

These words from a man who fought the battle of the Somme in WW1. He walked trenches with a floor of ice where his dead comrades lay frozen staring back at him endlessly. He survived and went on, broken inside . Riddled with PTSD, unable to cope with crowds or loud noises, he found his solace in sitting alone under oak trees on spring days. He studied things long forgot and led a department of one at Oxford. He was the master of medieval languages and the only expert on the continent.

When his son went to war in WW2, he sent him chapters to keep him company. The Hobbit was born through this. His world and notes grew so complex that it became the Lord of the Rings, a book publishers refused to publish becuase it was too long. "A waste of paper" they called it. It did not get popular until an American publisher stole it. The copyright lawsuit lasted sixteen years. He died before it was settled, "at least I wrote the Damm thing, no one can deny that." What else mattered?

His family is now well off for the rest of thier lives. Millions have read and loved his work. To be so lucky... I would trade my life. Here's to you. Thanks for showing the way.

 

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**

National Siblings Day.

Last year's national siblings day...ouch ouch dammit.

When I think of my sister, unbridled rage comes to mind. I love her but she is a being entirely fueled by rage and distrust. I am sure I am somehow to blame for this. I tried to apologize once and I don't think she understood what I was trying to say, the next time I did ten years later I think she just shrugged it off and said it didn't matter. I have a lot to be ashamed of but being mean to my sister as part of the cycle of violence that was our childhood, weighs on me more than most.

There is a certain school of thought that says, get over it and go on with your life. Sadly I'm of the school of thought that says own up to it, and try not to do that sort of thing again. A thing done can't be undone, so mind how you go.

 

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**

The Nice One.

Treating people the way you want to be treated is a good practice, but what happens when that fails? I find it is best to treat them they way they treat you. That way when they ask why, you can point out that they set the standard. When I become a low prority in thier life I think it's fair for them to become a low priority in mine. Maybe that keeps the good kind smart people around, and frustrates the assholes into leaving me alone.

I know my time is short now, so why waste it in one sided friendships where I have to be the nice one? I can be nice, not say hurtful things and still protect myself. Everyday I'm alive I am doing things to help others, and also helping myself by avoiding assholes, dimwits and sociopaths. Then again I do breathe a lot of paint for a living.

 

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**

Cereal.

Sometimes the silliest things can make me feel utterly alone. I was in the market buying stuff for next week and I saw a woman with her child. They were negotiating cereal, chocolate flavored sugar bombs vs. whole-bran turd rights; I remember similar discussions with my mom at that age, it seemed so important at the time, now less so, of course. I'm about to be forty six years old with almost nothing to show for it. If it wasn't For a little black dog and a few friends, I would already be gone. It made me realize that I'm never going to have the cereal discussion in a market with an impatient child.

I don't think it's wise to quantify your existence with a child, but in my case it was obviously the right move, considering the fact that I'm insane. I have been fortunate to have the sort of friends that talk me of the edge rather than shout jump. I guess that's why they are still friends.

 

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**

Can't Fix.

Yesterday, I got a last minute call from a friend. Car making bad noises so I told them to bring it over. Turns out that the o2 sensor had come out of the catalytic converter. I noticed why right away. The person who put it in did not take the assembly apart then they screwed it in. So they twisted the wire to install it and eventually the wire unscrewed it and it fell out. Took the harness apart, and then removed the sensor and unplugged it. Then screwed it back in and put the assembly back together. Took half an hour to do it right and I always consider this stuff time well spent. It would have taken five minutes to just screw it back in but that would have just added to the problem. Better yet, I had the code scanner to reset the check engine light and check the code problem.

I bought the tools because I'm fucking poor and it was cheaper to buy the code scanner and watch a YouTube video than it was to pay a mechanic. I have always been always be to fix things with few exceptions.. here is a list of the things I can't fix.

Dead people
Dead animals
Bad relationships (except my own. "Get out of my life you poisoned bitch")
Pregnant people
Stupid people ( you can fix stupid but it's a felony)
Crooked politicians
Bruises
Doggy diarrhea
Eight broken dishes
My own fucked up head

Everyday I'm doing something to help people I'm happy, sometimes that's harder than others. There are those days you have to be cruel to be kind and those aren't easy. Telling someone they have thier head up thier ass comes to mind. Sometimes it's the only way I can help. It's up to them to listen. If they can't hear it it's my policy not to watch the coming disaster. Rigorous honesty is a newer policy of mine but the ensuing disaster I have the right to ignore.

Namaste.

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**

Amir.

So I knew this Armenian house flipper named Amir, decent guy, very flashy. Did some work for him four years ago. This morning while reading the news I find out his seventy year old father, who never learned to speak English shot him dead with a shotgun. His crime? He was gay, and had dishonored the family. Apparently they had tried to have him instutionalized for it last year in order to seize his bank account. When that failed the old bastard murdered him, only to discover Amir left everything to the seventh day adventist church. Funny old world, so here's to you, Amir a guy who left Syria under persecution as an Armenian Christian at ten years old, only to get murdered by his dad for being queer. If there's a heaven, or some peace hereafter I hope you found it. Cheers.

 

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**

Twins.

Read this morning that in Fresno, a woman who had cancer gave birth to twins. She had ovarian cancer, beat that had twins and then was diagnosed with cervical cancer six weeks before giving birth. She gave birth to the kids, and then while they had her open they preformed a radical hysterictomy. She died during the procedure of congenital heart failure. Most of her posts and writings were about the power and grace of the lord, her faith in Jesus and her plans for motherhood.

For me there are only two real possibilities, one that humans invented God to feel less alone in the darkness and evil of life. The second is that God exists and he invented humans so he would have something to torture. Without god we only have each other to cling too. Humans are really finicky and unpredictable so the idea of a loving all knowing god is comforting. Or at least it was until you read this.

Part of the Christian lore is that God set evil upon the world so that they could chose to follow him. I guess he needed love over mindless obedience. God needs adoration? Perhaps he/she/it could do a better job of returning the favor.

Her family has received upwards of 60 thousand dollars from total strangers on the internet. The father is no longer with her and living in new Hampshire. There is such joy and no and not the same time sadness in this world. Life is truly unique on a human level. If I felt anything at this point in my life it would be awe at the reality of human existence.

 

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**

Mission Accomplished.

A friend posted one to many pictures of his new baby this week, which I endured silently for the first three then I started commenting hoping they might get the hint.

1. Baby face - said congrats!
2. Side shot of baby face - said nothing
3. Repost of baby face - said nothing
4. New baby pic, drooling - said it's leaking take it back!
5. Baby smiling pic- there is good eating on that baby
6. Baby sleeping pic- said, quick run while it's Asleep.
7. Baby waving video- said sell the baby!
8. Another baby face pic - Holy shit ! Is that baby?

They finally blocked me. Mission accomplished. I just spared myself eighteen years of photo essay on another baby.

 

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**

Two Nightmares.

It is better to be violent, if there is violence in our breasts, than to put on the cloak of non-violence to cover impotence. Violence is any day preferable to impotence. There is hope for a violent man to become non-violent. There is no such hope for the impotent.
- Ghandi.

Had two nightmares last night, the first I was being arrested for building a fence on my mother's property. I was being harassed by some long haired citizen activist becuase he didn't like the fence. I finally snapped when he grabbed me and beat him silly. Just before I awoke I was waiting for the cops to arrive..

I guess I felt powerless over the acvitist and afraid of failure and that impotence drove me to violence. Obviously I just have to let that go and finish the fence.

The second dream was that I was in a mansion and was approached by my cousin who I no longer speak too. He smirked at me and I stuck a shotgun under his chin and smirked back. Then I woke up.

Here I suspect that I am resentful at being abandoned by my family when my father died. He is a snotty little bastard anyway, but it was strong enough to shake me awake.

You would think that they might have called me or tried to say something nice, but no they didnt. Not once, not even a card. He is not going to get any less dead. At some point you have to realize that they did not care for me much anyway and just move on.

 

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**

Special Nightmares.

Just had one of my special nightmares. Woke up scared and angry. Not how I want to start a day, so I'm going back to bed, I hope,..

 

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**

Duchess.

I had a dog I loved very much. Her name was Duchess, she was born January first of the year 2000. She was an American bull mastiff and a very sweet puppy. I had to go get her from the breeder in Idaho at ten weeks old.

The breeder was a white supremacist asshole who was convinced that society was going to crash due to the y2k bug. So he decided he didn't want money for the dog, I had to bring ammunition and canned goods up to this guy's house, 750.00 dollars worth. By the time she was ready to come with me the y2k bug had proved to be a hoax and he was unhappy about being stuck with canned peaches and a thousand rounds of ss- 109 steel penetrator ammo. The experience was awful.

The guy was breeding the dogs to kill people and fight by his side in the apocalypse, which turned out to be bullshit. When I arrived his twelve year old son stuck a gun in my face and tried to search me. I took the pistol away and hoped his arm healed quickly. He lived fifty miles from the Canadian border and at the end of a road that nearly killed my ford ranger pickup. It was ten degrees outside in February and this guy was keeping the dogs in an out building to toughen them up. That night he tried to force me to say my prayers over a microwave meal and nearly kicked me out of his house when I refused to pray to Jesus. He tried to change the deal for cash and I offered to leave. He knew he was stuck with ten puppies so he finally shut up took the stuff and I left at first light.

My "Ultimate man killer" of a dog turned out to be a hundred and ten pounds of cuddling monster who loved to fart and would not hurt a fly. For a long time after my divorce she was the only thing I really cared about. I had my heart ripped out and had lost everything except her. I was living in my car and had no income, skills, or sense of direction. I finally moved into a back house and decided to continue learning to be an electrician.

I made every mistake you could with her and she stayed super sweet and very loveable, despite nearly killing a flower vendor who stuck his arm in my car. It was like a scene from alien.

She started to develop problems around four years old and they were beyond my ability to pay for and as result she suffered for it. It turned out that she was triple inbred by the fucking idiot who bred her. He thought it would make the ultimate dog, it made a giant pit bull that had four way hip displaysa and organ failure. The vet had never seen a dog with it in all four legs. He had bred the father to the daughter and then the offspring of that back to the father convinced that this would bring all the string traits out. It did the opposite.

I knew she was suffering and I was powerless to do anything about it. She could barely walk and it took her five minutes to stand up. But I loved her and I did not to let her go. She suffered for four more years until I screwed up the courage to have her put down. It was a selfish and shitty thing to do an animal and I still regret it. The animal hospital had no idea how to put down a hundred and ten pound dog and they fucked it up. I could have strangled the vet. The third time she finally died and I tore into them pretty good. I left angry and they felt much better when I left. It took me four years to get another dog.

I let my attachment absolutely torture an animal I loved becuase I was afraid of being without her. Becuase I waited so long I had no sense of relief afterwards just guilt.

 

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**

Twisted and Broken.

A snippet from my next book, A CIA/ Psychic adventure story with more turns and twists than a snakes back. Here a Croat girl is rescued from an orphanage and given to the red cross by two mercenaries. All comments are welcome. I'm sure it has spelling and grammar mistakes, enjoy them and read it anyway.

Sarajevo was the place you avoided, there was no UN safe area like Gorazde. They had a “Processing center” and it was a place you stayed before going someplace else. The UN was prohibited from engaging anyone and all they could do was “Observe and report. There were times when she was convinced that she had been returned here to die with her parents.

The processing center was next to the hospital and had been part of the airport. She had been asked to help with the smaller children and she did this happily. Desperate to look away from the chaos and destruction that was all around her. For moments, sometimes hours it looked like a functioning city and then an airstrike would break out or the Serbians would make a push outside of town and suddenly the hospital would be full of people dead and dying. Across the runway there was a parking garage full of dead people frozen stiff. She could see the white wrapped bodies being carried into it from the hospital, and then back out to the crematorium. A lone figured guarded it, he seemed to never stop talking whether anyone was there or not. At first she suspected he spoke to the dead.

From her window she could see him pacing the parking garage, sometimes when he was angry she could hear him yelling. The few times she listened to the conversation it sounded like he was arguing with God. He was begging him for answers, and then assailing him with more questions. She wondered if God answered back, inside his head. It had always occurred to her that if God was to appear as he did with priests and saints it was always inside their minds. Her grandmother had been religious and was deeply catholic. Her mother was whatever that sort of upbringing left you with. Her father was an architect, a man of reason and they never went to church.

They were probably both dead now. The Red Cross did not tell children that their parents were dead if they did not ask. They had a computer database that kept track of everyone who called them or turned up in the morgue. They prided themselves on reuniting families, no one had come to reunite her. She could only assume that there was no one coming.

They finally told her one day to come to the main room and they showed her a picture of a couple. The man was tan and smiling with his arm around another woman, she had a sweater tied around her neck. Sabina thought it was a strange way to carry a sweater. She was told that this couple would adopt her, they lived in California. The place was called Orange county, and she was assured it was very nice. They asked her what she wanted and she closed her eyes and thought about it.

She wanted her mother. She wanted her father to come and tuck her into bed with her bear like he had last year. She wanted to feel safe, and for the ground to stop shaking when the serbs fired up the guns. She wanted many things. She had never told these people her last name, the idea scared her. She knew they would not give her to the Serbs for being a croat, but she was afraid that when they learned her name other things would happen.

She did not want them to open their database and tell her that her parents were dead. She did not want them to know that she had been at the farm when the serbs came. She did not want them to know that somehow she had killed those men, crushed them inside and taken away their air. She could still see their faces, cold, blue and eyes staring into hell. If her parents were alive she would be with them, or they would have told her. They would not give her hope when there was none, they were not that sort of people. Priests did that, doctors and trauma workers did not. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter fighting the tears forming, a warm hand touched her shoulder. Suddenly she was embraced and did not resist like all the times before. The woman held her tight and cried with her. It was all so futile, but the woman could not make the decision for her.

“Yes, I would like to go. There is nothing for me here.”
“There is nothing for you here. That's why they want you to be their daughter.” Her parents were dead, they just did not have the courage to tell a twelve year old girl that. So this is how they did it, with innuendo and suggestions.
“I will go. I can start again.”
“They will love you if you let them.” She shook her head yes, but not because they would love her. She did not believe that, because no one loved an orphan who had mental troubles. She shook her head yes because she could not speak and could feel the sadness of the woman who held her.

As the woman released her, her own eyes wet the ground shook. She had just enough time to mutter oh, no and then the world exploded around her. A shell had hit the parking lot in front of the hospital. They both dived to the ground. A shell had never hit the hospital, or even near the hospital. Now they listened as the next shell screamed through the air, announcing its arrival. The lights went out as the first shell hit the generator in front of the building. Only the light from the window lit the room. The second shell landed close, and again the world shook.

With the third shell it was apparent that the serbs were shelling the hospital. Or the immediate vicinity. She could hear the screams and moans of terror as the walls pounded. They both stood and ran into the hall away from the windows. Down the hall they fled until they reached the stairs that led to the basement. At the bottom two men stood, they took Sabina in and told the woman to go back up stairs, she understood and left. All the children in the compound were huddled together, her first instinct was to look for Vladi. He had promised to kill her if she left him. She sat on the floor and covered her ears, this was not her first artillery attack. She quietly counted they blasts and at twenty two they stopped. Everyone one waited for half an hour before going back up stairs. Sometimes to increase the terror the serbs waited for everyone to go back to normal and sent another salvo. When she got back to her room she saw that the parking garage across the street had been hit, more than once. The area below it, outside her window was now littered with frozen bodies wrapped in hospital sheets. The blast had thrown dozens of people over the short walls and down into the streets. She was glad they were already dead. The hospital could not take many more wounded. People slept in the halls.

The UN compound across the street only housed the children and the workers, everyone else had to find shelter somewhere else from the freezing cold. She put her hands on the window sill and looked down below. The keeper of the dead lay at the bottom, twisted and broken. God had finally answered him.

 

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**

Self Pity.

"I have never seen a wild thing, a natural thing feel sorry for itself.
I have seen birds drop dead of cold from the bows of ships,
without ever feeling a drop of self pity."

- DH Lawrence.

 

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**

Time Well Spent.

Just realized it has been five years since I watched television. I watch movies all the time but I dislike having my train of thought interrupted every seven minutes as part of the format. People say you have to watch this series, or that show but no I don't. If I have a regret it might be missing breaking bad, which I intend to watch on dvd. I made it through two episodes of House of Cards on Netflix but somehow I feel like it's a waste of time. I live everyday as though it's my last, and everyday I review what I did with my time. Thinking that I spent two hours watching TV doesn't seem like time well spent.

Everyday I'm alive, I'm trying to move forward. It's why I quit smoking dope. I spent two years depressed and staring at a wall, it shamed me that I allowed myself to fucking wallow like that. When I got ready to die I realized I had so much left to do for myself, other people and my dog, that I put it off. If I get killed crossing a street or hit by a meteor know that in that moment I had spent my time doing what I wanted. Paying hills, going to work, writing fiction, even taking care of my cronically abusive mother is what I want to be doing, otherwise I would just tell them to fuck off. Simple, no?

 

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**

John.

Memories,.. maybe there is some power when you stop and remember someone who is dead. Maybe just for a second they are back with you, and not lost to the ether. Perhaps your mind makes it so. So many dead friends in my life, but sometimes I remember them for a second and I can see them plain as day. Laughing or telling a good story and for that minute they are not gone from my life, only missing.

Doctor John Pheifer, A man of excellent jest. Fifth special forces in Vietnam. Joined to get out of New York City at seventeen. "It was that or I was going to die." He used to have rumbles on the subway with the Latin kings. Bats and knives, a lot of broken teeth but no one got killed. It was 1965. Wrong hood got you stomped, I can't remember now, but he once told me that queens below 87isth was death for him, or at least a nasty beating. So he joined the army. Did ordinance disposal until he was recognized as fearless and crazy and took the exam for the Rangers at 19. Got his tab and asked to be sent to Vietnam in 1967. Selected and trained for SF, went into a search and destroy squad near the eastern border of vietnam. He lived with the Hmoung people, ate the poison sack and took a wife. A hmoung warrior ate the venom sack of a Vietnamese pit viper in order to be initiated. It's where the term snake eater comes from in the SF. It makes you really sick for a few days, sometimes you die. He met a woman, fell in love and decided to just stay with the village after his time ran out. Two years with them.

One morning he was standing up after a morning crap and he was shot three times in the back. Woke up in the United States. He tried to go back, but the army had taken one of his lungs. He was unfit for combat. He moved to Los Angeles and got a job at the LA times. Because he was a vet they hired him first, right to the top of the line. Remember those days? His plan was to work until the war was over and then fly back and stay with the Hmoung. He wound up being a press operator and a typesetter, met a pretty little biker girl and had four daughters.

Got a degree in psychology for free and wrote half a dozen science fiction books. By 1984 he was the biggest weed dealer in southern California. Everyday he would pack a ruck and take his dog up to the park. Sell bags of super high end weed by appointment only and play with his dog. I met him and we became fast friends. He was a kind and decent man who taught me things I never would have learned otherwise. Long after he quit the weed business I would go up to wattles park and hang out. I think I was his only loyal friend, everyone else wanted something from him.

An unconditional friend is a magical thing, a level of trust becomes mutual dependence. I loved him. Then one day he was gone. His retirement was running out and he bought a house in fontana with the remainder. We tried to visit a few times but it was a long haul. We drifted apart. He died of a heart attack sometime after 9/11.

If he taught me four things I would have to list them as this,..

1. Be kind first and be ready to kill them if that fails.
2. Love the one your with, and if you don't, just go.
3. Do your best everyday to be where you want to be.
4. Life has shitty difficult moments, but that is what they are. Moments.

RIP John, you live on in my heart.

Namaste.

 

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**

212 Degrees.

First...

Ok,. So I made a quad espresso,.. then let it cool because.. Well... dope. I put them into a tall glass coffee cup and put it in the microwave for fifty seconds to heat it back up while the milk was frothing. You all following me? Less than three inches of coffee in a six inch cup. So... microwave goes beep and....

It fucking exploded all over the microwave! Am I stupid? Does coffee explode? Have I angered the tiny gods of microwave cooking? Someone please?

------------------------------------------->

Next...

Ok.. So heating water, or coffee in a microwave creates super heated water. It is past 212 degrees but does not boil because there is no irregularity in heating like on a stove. The surface of the water creates tension and the energy is stored in the liquid. The minute you move the cup it breaks the surface tension and releases the energy. As in bang!

I was convinced this was because I had angered the tiny gods of microwave but it's actually physics. Damm you physics - we aren't friends anymore. I'm taking my tooth brush home.

 

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**

The Battle Awaits.

Another week...
Of trying hard
Of being polite
Of facing constant fear of failure
Of fighting anxiety
Of hoping something changes for the better
Of fear that it will change for the worst

Any minute it could go bad, a garbage truck looses it brakes, a drunk on the road. You can't hide from it, that only means the truck will hit your house. It's best to just accept that life is ultimately fatal and move on. The most careful man alive still dies in bed having experienced nothing. So go forward, into the day, chin up and feet forward, death awaits you. Either in glory, or stupidity, it is coming for us all.

Rise and charge, all of us soldiers of life's war, the battle awaits. Ours is not to wonder why, ours is to do and die.

 

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**

Six Years Ago.

I haven't been posting much, because I tend to vomit Trump. It's no surprise to me because the mainstream news, not just the wackadoodle press, is absolutely inundated with him. It's harder to ignore than not, but I'm up to the challenge.

I was remembering a nasty thing I did about six years ago... thinking on the result.

I was in kinko's copies and a guy was making a scene. He was older than me but beyond angry at the system. He decided to take it out on the clerk. He Launched into a racist rant about Mexicans working there that didn't speak English. I pointed out that they spoke English just fine, they were ignoring him. He got nasty with everyone except me, because I was the tattooed guy and finally called the clerk, a N****r bitch. I finally snapped and told him I had heard enough from his mouth. He spun around and poked me in the chest which constitutes assault in ca. So I put him in a wrist lock and used his head to open the front door.

I guess the hand bar knocked him clean out and I scruffed him out the door and laid him on the side walk. He was basically awake when I set him down, he was not bleeding. Regardless it was time to go. Last month I was approached by a girl in staples who wanted to hug me, I said ok and then asked why.

Turns out she was the clerk six years ago and no one had ever stood up for her, it was her first job and she took the abuse because she was afraid of being fired. She told me that they guy was seriously injured and sued the company. I had mixed feelings about it, but she cried when she told me that she never thought that a white person would stand up for a black person. She was convinced that the world hated her for being black and overweight. I'm not sure I would again put someone in the hospital, but I was the person she needed that day.

 

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Holiday Dinner.

I heard a story, I'm pretty sure is true. This lady had a holiday dinner with her family, everyone dressed up and had a nice time, just as it was ending she went in the bathroom and shot herself. At first I thought wow, horrible.

I guess she had an inoperable brain tumor that was going to kill her and she wanted to have one last meal with her family before she ended it. Imagine her for a minute at the table. Knowing that this was the last time she would see her family. First fear and then acceptance. Finally resignation that this was the best course of action, and then,...

Bang.

No more pain, no more fear, no more tumor.

 

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Good Advice.

You will never know true despair with out still having hope.
Hence the words "abandon hope all ye who enter here" is actually good advice.

 

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On the nature of the universe...

A well-known scientist (some say it was Bertrand Russell) once gave a public lecture on astronomy. He described how the earth orbits around the sun and how the sun, in turn, orbits around the center of a vast collection of stars called our galaxy. At the end of the lecture, a little old lady at the back of the room got up and said: "What you have told us is rubbish. The world is really a flat plate supported on the back of a giant tortoise." The scientist gave a superior smile before replying, "What is the tortoise standing on?" "You're very clever, young man, very clever," said the old lady. "But it's turtles all the way down!"—Hawking, 1988

 

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Immigration.

The day my great-grandfather arrived in this country he watched a lady die at Ellis Island waiting for release. She was sick with TB, she drowned in her own fluids. He had come here to find a wife after fighting two tours, four years in France in ww1. He was a land owner in Sicily, he served his brothers tour because his brother was skinny and weak. Like me.

After three months of living high on the hog, and sick of the racism against Italians at the time he wrote home for his return ticket. It never came. He moved into a tenement building and got a job as a rug maker. He was deaf in one ear and blind in one eye from the war and had headaches that would put him on the ground randomly. Still he worked, finally married and had three sons. They were Americans even if he was not.

His brother and their whole family was murdered for their land by IL lapardo of sciliy for their land. They were buried on their property and never found. Ten years later the Italian government sent him a check for his land, 200 acres of vinyards, it was ten bucks.

He framed the check because he wanted his family to know what getting fucked by the government looked like. Finally years later, unable to work and crippled with headaches and nightmares he shot himself. My grandfather became justice of the peace in Erie pensilvania and his brother's family still owns the house they bought in 1926.

That's immigration; that's America.

 

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Monster Truck Rally.

It's embarrassing, like being invited to a birthday party only to discover it's a monster truck rally. I had hopes, sure but I did not think it was going to be a nightmare. At the start I thought there was no way they were going to invite uncle Don . He had been caught jacking off in my mother's walk in closet. What did he wipe up with I wondered?

The meal was ok but desert was chilled monkey brains in a live monkey with its head sticking through the table screaming. The guests just ignored the noise. As the crescendo rose and Don disappeared into the hall closet I thought, him they are going to elect him? No one thought it was possible. He crapped on the stage and ate it, he rolled in broken glass,.he used to be funny but only in a train wreck full of clowns kind of way.

Now he is the president. I want out.

 

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Love.

Never fall in love with someone who hates themselves...

 

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 Libertarian military future crap.

So my first science fiction novel is done, it's an answer to the libertarian military future crap that dominates science fiction right now. It's a story about a sixteen year old girl lost in the wilderness of a destroyed earth. It strongly embraces female empowerment, cooperative governments and environmental concerns. It's major themes are human equality and racism, which cause people to make class and cultural decisions based on perception rather than fact.

I have always been a fan of judging people on what they do rather than what they look like and this book is about that. There is no profanity or sex but it is mostly composed of adult themes. Anyone interested in reading it I can send a readers copy in either PDF or amazon kindle format. It is highly intellectual in nature and not exactly for children but to a thinking mind it might prove interesting.

The price of admission is being willing to answer the readers questions sheet after you have finished it. If you can't finish it obviously then it's not worth reading. Anyone interested can message me for a copy of the first edited draft. I would love to know what other people think.

 

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Happy New Year.

Happy new year and thanks for being my friends. It's been a shit year for me, and I know I'm responsible ultimately for how I deal with life's trials but it feels good to know that I am not alone in my battle with mental illness, indecurity and poor impulse control.

Best of luck and I hope I can be as good to you as you have been to me.

 

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