someone else's suicide

i had a dream.

who was i with, who had the gun? i was in a parking lot near a desk. when the gun was pulled i hit the deck... but the gun wasn't pulled on me. it was pulled on the one who possessed the gun. as i cowered under the desk, the heat from the asphalt drifted upwards in waves and my assailant sprayed his brains behind and below him. down he went...

i was with somebody. who was it? a co-worker, a friend? i think it was a co-worker, not a friend. she cowered with me under the desk... in the parking lot. even after the bullet(s) had been discharged, we lay in wait, afraid for our lives.

the man with the gun was dead, but i still couldn't get away. i still couldn't get away. i was trapped.

i woke up tired.

delicious brains...

vision of the day

been looking all over the internet, but can't find the image... Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke beheading parking meters in the opening scene. Classic!

i wish i had something to write

blocked... perhaps with my early morning tomorrow i'll barge in on a juicy dream that'll be bloggable. for now, though, just contemplating a compilation and working my way westward...

vagueries aside, maybe i should take princess up on her offer of the subject that starts with a letter... let's just do it... sorry i didn't take the letter through the proper channels, but i was going to wait until i was able to do it, and now i'm too inspired(?) to wait for the proper channels to be gone through. meh. so the letter is (blindly stabbing at the keyboard): s

santa: myth, christianity, childhood wonder. i don't have kids, but like to think i wouldn't lie to them... but the societal pressure is there. hell, i know an agnostic ex-jew who partakes in the santa myth with her daughter. i just remember finding out and feeling lied to... by my mother, my teachers, my brothers... that sucked.

strings: my guitars are making me quite irate... the twelve-string: buzzing here, sounding awful there, and apparently warping thanks to... something. the classical: re-strung less than two months ago and i've had to jerry-rig two strings that broke at the bridge. don't know about the other guitar--it's with me brother (considering my recent experiences, it's probably for the better).

sinuses: what can i say, this spring has been a peach. speaking of which, and keeping with the theme, the super salty saline spray sorta sucks. but it is somewhat effective.

songs: what can i say, music rocks my world. coulda shoulda woulda, but don't. gotta stop listening to people who disagree with my heart.

second chance: gonna make the same mistake twice, or try, try again? i think, try, try again, with the opportunity to make some magnificent new mistakes. is what i think. you know, i have learned from the past, but it wasn't all wrong. i want what was right back. i can get it back, but i know it won't be easy. so much uncertainty, but what have i got to lose by trying? a disquieting comfort. a comfort bought with my soul. it's done, it's over, goodbye, good luck, and thanks for all the fish...

scatterbrain: somewhere i'm a ... scatterbrain--radiohead

spectacles: beglassed for three plus years. it is what it is...

smack: heroin or dat ass... i think i prefer the latter!

peas.

the real Ahmadi-Najad letter

all kidding aside, here's the real letter. i read it, i wasn't really impressed (though he did make some points about our foreign policy and lapdog media that were true), but i think it's worth a read by anyone who doesn't just accept everything bush and his cronies administration says at face value. why the media gave bush's reaction without supplying what he was reacting to is beyond me, but they aren't doing their job. to me, that's a sad state of affairs...

"See, in my line of work you got to keep repeating things over and over and over again for the truth to sink in, to kind of catapult the propaganda." —George W. Bush, Greece, N.Y., May 24, 2005

compare that to this:

...After 9/11, instead of healing and tending to the emotional wounds of the survivors and the American people – who had been immensely traumatized by the attacks – some Western media only intensified the climates of fear and insecurity, constantly talking about the possibility of new terror attacks and keeping the people in fear. Is that service to the American people? Is it possible to calculate the damages incurred from fear and panic?

American citizens lived in constant fear of fresh attacks that could come at any moment and in any place. They felt insecure in the streets, in their place of work, and at home. Who would be happy with this situation? Why was the media, instead of conveying a feeling of security and providing peace of mind, giving rise to a feeling of insecurity?... —Mahmood Ahmadi-Najad

it's a scary world, but it's especially scary when you're told constantly, and over and over and over again, to be afraid... be very afraid... the bogeyman is out there in every imaginable shape.

msm scooped, yet again, by the blogosphere!

all the king's horses and all the king's men have been tight-lipped about the contents of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's letter to gwb. but after cruising the internet i found the results to be quite surprising:

"Dear President Bush:
I am writing you on the advice of my therapist, who says I have alot of unresolved feelings towards your country. I have my doubts, but I want to show Dr. Gulzar that I'm committed to our therapy.

Iran and America ought to work together to reduce international tensions. I propose a simple trade: if you promise not to invade Iran, I promise to wear a tie. Of course, the choice of tie will be Iran's alone.

Since Dr. Gulzar is always telling me to 'speak my truth,' I want to tell you something. The goal of Iran's nuclear program is not a bomb. It is to make a working replica of the time-traveling car from Back to the Future. Have you ever seen that movie? Not everyone knows this, but there are three of them. If you want, I can loan them to you, but you have to PROMISE to give them back.

To achieve this dream, Iran requires two things: nuclear power, and a DeLorean. Could you keep your eyes open? I'm working Craigslist, but so far nothing. I'm sure you agree, there's really no point in doing it, if it's not authentic.

Respectfully,
Mahmoud Ahmadinejad
PS--Do you know how I can get in touch with Christopher Lloyd?"

you heard it here first, folks!

"The Party" by Starlings

just some lyrics floating around in my head--copyright 1995-ish, and i can't promise 100% accuracy (hell, i don't even know if that's the correct title of the song)

fatty fed himself first
smokey rolled his own
mrs. poor, she checked her purse
important checked his phone

(chorus)
what a wonderful party
what a memorable night
what a perfect photo opportunity
what a good excuse for a fight

vanity's getting acne scars
ugly thinks it's funny
grateful thanked our lucky stars
and tightwad hid his money

(repeat chorus)

bubblehead does another twirl
the king sits on his throne
sleazy feels another girl
lonely feels his own

(repeat chorus and out...)

stupid internet quiz time

not bad, not bad at all...

You are Hard Harry from Pump up the Volume You are shy, but once you overcome that you are inspirational to those around you. You are rebellious and like to push the authority figures' buttons. Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

universal healthcare speech, a work in progress

this is something i started on yesterday and plan to flesh out more in the future. comments and suggestions are welcome, and facts and figures will be provided when i get to the meat of it.

Intro:

Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for your time and attention. I’m here to speak about something that I feel is very wrong with our society, and something that I think needs to be addressed: healthcare, and our limited access to it. It is my belief that healthcare is not privilege, but a right. I also believe that with a universal healthcare plan, not only do individuals benefit, but so does our entire nation. Less people going into debt and/or bankruptcy to care for themselves or their sick loved ones means less people feeling the desperation that is at the heart of many crimes; people don’t steal bread to feed their families if their families are fed.

Personal Experience:

I’d like to begin by saying that I have health insurance. I’m in an ever-decreasing majority in that respect. I have lived without health insurance for many years, but thankfully I was healthy during those years. But here’s what I’ve experienced over the past three years with insurance: decreasing benefits with increasing premiums. In fact, this year I am paying about 40% more in my monthly premium while my deductible has increased by a third compared to just one year ago. The level of service I can expect has remained unchanged. But my out-of-pocket expenses make it hard for me to justify a doctor’s visit if I fall ill. I have to ask myself if I’m sick enough to pay the expense, allowing any illnesses I may get to reach crisis status if it doesn’t get better on its own. I believe I’m in the majority in this balancing act as well.

But I share majority status in thought as well. Recent polls show that more than 60% of Americans believe in some form of universal healthcare system. As for the other 30-40%, I assume these are the same people who believe Iraq is going swimmingly, so, uh, more power to them. But for the rest of us, healthcare should be about health, not money. And our healthcare dollars can be better spent on preventative medicine than on marketing and the extreme administrative costs that come from a fractured system. Or on the bandaid we give to the extremely sick in the form of emergency care, the cost of which dwarfs the costs of keeping everyone healthy in the first place.

The Capitalist/Communist False Dichotomy:

U.S. Model:

International Theory:

The Myth of the Bootstrap:

Action:

part five

here's part four wherein our hero goes through the memories that brought him to the impoverished, lonely state that he finds himself in... but it seems he's found a new friend in...

"i'm rebecca, what's your name?"

"re... bec... ca," i repeat, dazed with my hand inflating like a helium balloon at a five-year-old's birthday party.

"that's a funny name for a dude. and it could get confusing, i think. if you don't mind i'll just call you rebecca 2. and this is sara."

"what," i say, having heard but not understood. then, of course, it hits me. "oh, no. i mean, rebecca... it's nice to meet you rebecca. i'm leo."

I hold out my hand out of habit, but she wisely refuses it.

"So, what's going on that's got you so bent, there, Leo mah boy?" She gives my shoulder a playful nudge.

i sit down, pull my pouch of tobacco out of my backpack and fumble through my attempt to roll a cigarette with one good hand. "well, i guess it's everything, really. no money, no job, my car broke down, not that i can afford it. but it's all i had, and even that's not working for me."

she hands me a pre-rolled smoke, lights it for me, and says, "wow, you're quite the mess there."

"yeah, well, i've made my mistakes, and here i am. i don't really want to talk about it. what's your story?"

"sara and i were just enjoying the day, chillin' as the kiddies say."

"yep, jes cole chillin'," sara adds.

"then, i don't know, you caught my eye. sara said you looked crazy, and i guess she's right that you looked crazy, but i kinda figured it was more than met the eye."

"... a little from column a, a little from column b, i suppose," i say.

"wanna go smoke a bowl," rebecca asks.

"i don't know--"

"oh come on, i know you don't have a job. why the hell not? what've you got to lose?"

"well..." i look at her, her hair in her face, a mischievous smile graces her round soft face. "i mean..."

"come on leo, what are you a man or a..."

sara makes a mock-chicken sound.

"or perhaps you're the king of the jungle."

"that was a little easy," i say.

"but it got you to smile."

i put a hand to my mouth. "oh, heheh, so it did."

"let's go you little pussy."

she grabs my good hand and leads me to the parks and recreation ladies' room and gets me high. at some point during our illicit merrymaking we're interrupted by a pre-teen wanting to use the facilities. she was awfully rude and we were high enough so we left. an older lady, presumably the pre-teen's mother, gave us a crusty as we emerged, but sara and rebecca kept it light and kept moving... i had little choice but to follow. we lay on the grass, look to the clouds, talk. the girls are friends from college, about a year from graduating. sara's from southern california, rebecca's from the bay area. when i tell them i'm from denver they razz me about my lack of a cowboy hat and accent. i respond defensively, call them ignorant and they laugh.

"take a joke pussycat," says rebecca.

oh god, i hope that that petname doesn't stick...

"ok, so i'm soo friggin' hungry," says sara.

"me too," says rebecca.

"yeah, i got the munchies, man" i say, "but i've no dough."

"s'okay," says sara. "i got visa. and daddy loves his princess." she hams up the last part with emphasis on 'loves' and 'princess.'

we head to a deli on 2nd and couch...